In Plain Sight
by RiverWriter
Summary: Hermione is on holiday celebrating her best friend's birthday. It was just supposed to be a fun week away, but an alcohol fueled confession has her reconsidering what's been right in front of her since she was eleven years old.
1. Chapter 1

**Guys, this is a Harmony. I repeat, this is a HARMONY. That means the romantic pairing in this story is Harry/Hermione. I know that will be surprising to my usual readers, so I wanted to forewarn you. If that's not your thing, I totally understand and I'll see you for some more Dramione soon!**

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Hermione finally gave sleeping up as a bad job and reached over to turn on the lamp so that she could read. She hit the switch and the light came on, and then, as if this action had summoned him, a very drunk Harry Potter stumbled into the room. He flopped onto the bed face down, almost completely on top of her, head on her chest.

"What's the matter, love? Can't sleep?" She asked running her fingers through his hair in a familiar way, amused if rather confused by his antics. He'd been behaving somewhat oddly all night, but this was downright strange.

"I wish," he mumbled.

She made a face. "You wish you could sleep?" She clarified, trying to understand his alcohol addled, half-asleep train of thought.

"Can't sleep without you," he slurred, somehow sounding more inebriated than he had when she'd helped him to bed two hours before.

Hermione frowned, starting to feel really concerned. She could count on her hands the number of times she'd seen Harry drunk and still have fingers left over, and she'd certainly never seen him drink the way he had tonight. He simply couldn't tolerate being out of control, and while she was touched that he felt comfortable enough in her company to let loose, she didn't understand what had brought it on. They had been celebrating his birthday but that had never been one of the handful of days per year that sent his emotions spiraling, so she couldn't account for his apparent need to drink himself into oblivion.

And what was he talking about? They had shared a bed on a number of occasions, but they certainly didn't sleep together often, much less every night. Something was definitely up with him, but she was torn about whether it was fair to essentially interrogate him while his inhibitions were down.

She was distracted from her thoughts when Harry began to nuzzle her breasts. "So soft," he sighed, "but I'm not supposed touch."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. _What was going on?_ It was a testament to how much she trusted this wizard that she didn't pull away or attempt to stop him, just stared at him incredulously.

"Harry, is something wrong?"

"It's my birthday."

"I know that, that's why we took this holiday," she responded immediately.

"Mmm twenty-one."

She considered that. "Well, I've been twenty-one for ten months, it's not that bad," she assured him in the way one does a drunk and unreasonable person, and continued to card her fingers through his hair hoping to soothe him, he usually loved it when she did this, he would curl up next to her on the couch like a cat with his head on her lap for hours.

"My parents were twenty-one when they died."

That brought her up short.

 _Oh. Oh Harry._

"I know," she said gently. What else was there to say?

"Least they had each other though...and me," he hiccuped.

She considered how to respond, there was really no making this better, the Potters' story was a tragedy. Even her heart ached at the thought that she had now been on earth longer than either of them had been, and she wasn't their child.

"I think they lived full lives, as short as they were. And you were a big reason for that," she said carefully, "they did some wonderful things in the time that they had. They gave you to the world and protected you so that you could grow old even though they didn't get to. I, for one, will forever be thankful for that." She didn't have children of her own, but she couldn't imagine that James or Lily Potter would regret for one moment the sacrifices they'd made to protect their son. Who could ever regret Harry?

"Never gonna have that," he sang and then clumsily worked one hand under the hem of her shirt to stroke the curve of her waist, he tunneled the other arm beneath her until he was embracing her fully.

"Have what, love?"

"That. A family. Never gonna happen." He finished that statement with a loud huff.

"Oh Harry," she said, still stroking his head, uncaring of the way he had his hands all over her. "You have plenty of time to find somebody."

He began to shake his head vigorously and given it's position between her breasts, she vaguely considered that she should have felt much more awkward than she did. But she was mostly just preoccupied with making him feel better.

"Harry, twenty-one is still very young. Your parents were lucky to find each other when they did and I know there's something to be said for magical connections and finding your spouse early, but that doesn't mean you won't still meet the right one."

"Don't want _someone_ ," he insisted, and now she wasn't certain if his speech was impaired by his drunkenness or the way his face was buried in her cleavage.

"Why not? You deserve to be happy," she was now practically pleading with him. She hated to see him like this.

"But I just want you," he whined, punctuating that declaration with a kiss to her sternum.

He'd said it so matter-of-factly, but he may as well have just proven to her that they sky was purple given the shocking effect it had on Hermione.

"What?" She gasped.

"Just you," he sing-songed and began leaving fleeting kisses, just brushes of his lips really, all over her chest, along her clavicle, her neck, the swell of her breasts- all of which were exposed by her spaghetti strapped top. She knew she should stop him, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control, but she didn't, she was too busy trying to figure out why she was enjoying his attentions so much. Her relationship with Harry wasn't like _this._ "Want you in my bed, my ring on your finger," he grabbed clumsily at her left hand, "and I want to put my babies in here," he reached down to cup one of her hips possessively.

Hermione was certain if she hadn't already been lying down, and quite literally covered by Harry, she would have fallen over.

Harry, ever attuned to her, noticed the way that she'd frozen up. "I'm sorry, I know you don't wanna hear it." He sighed dramatically and removed his hands from her body. "I should go to bed."

But he didn't move, and Hermione didn't try to make him get up. They just lay there silently for several minutes as she tried to decide how to respond. Suddenly, he sighed again, but this time it was a long contented sound, and then his body slackened and she realized he had fallen asleep.

Hermione didn't even try to extract herself from him even though she couldn't get to sleep. He was heavy, but it wasn't the discomfort of his weight on top of her that kept her awake, if anything that was reassuring. It was her racing thoughts.

Had he been serious? Honestly, under the right circumstances alcohol could be almost as good as any truth serum. And if he'd been feeling like this, but felt like she was unattainable, that would also explain his odd behavior and unusual desire to get drunk. But what would that mean for them?

Hermione considered herself to be an intelligent woman. Perhaps not as smart as others thought her to be, she was aware of her own limitations. But sharp, nonetheless. So, considering that he was one of her two _male_ best friends, the person she trusted most in the world, she'd considered the idea of Harry as a romantic partner years ago. She'd also discarded the idea.

Then again, she'd settled on Ron, and look how that had turned out.

But she had thought she knew what was what with their relationship, and she felt utterly unprepared to deal with this.

She gazed at the top of Harry's messy head and craned her neck to give him an affectionate kiss, something she'd done many times before. He let out a little snort and then a sigh. "Love you Mione," he murmured and snuggled more firmly against her.

And just like that it was like the world stopped spinning and when it started up again it was a completely different place. Actually, that wasn't right, it was the same place, she was just seeing it with new eyes.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him as close as possible as she let her new awareness sink in.

This was Harry sprawled out on top of her. Harry who had crawled in bed with her like it was the most natural thing in the world. If anybody else had taken such liberties with her person she would have kicked their arse, even Ron- whom she'd actually been intimate with in the past. But, again, this was Harry. It hadn't even occurred to her to try to escape from out from under him. It wouldn't have been an escape, she liked the way he felt, she was safe with him, and loved, he was her best friend, but despite what she'd sworn to everybody who had asked (and that was a lot of people) for the entirety of their friendship, it _was_ more than that.

Yes, he washer best friend. And that was beautiful, and precious, and it would always be important, but it was most certainly not _all_.

How had she not realized?

" _I get it, you choose him."_

It was the last thing Ron had said before he'd left them in the woods in the middle of a war. And at the time it had seemed like a bitter accusation. She had resented him terribly for it. If they'd ever had a chance as a couple it had been ruined that day. Though she was rapidly coming to believe that they had never had a chance.

Because now she could see that those words that had left her so angry, had been nothing but a simple statement of fact. It was Harry she had chosen that day, not the mission, not the Light, just Harry. She always chose Harry and had been doing so consistently and without question since she was twelve years old. Choosing him over and over: above her own parents, her other friends, her education, over everything else in her life. And she'd never felt like it was a sacrifice.

Where Harry Potter went Hermione Granger followed. Not because she was some martyr, or exceptionally brave- even though he was known to inspire acts of great courage in her. But because he was her heart.

He was her heart. Her heart had been walking around in the body of another person for years, what was she to do other than stick by his side?

She swallowed down a sob as she didn't want to risk waking him. There would be no putting him off if he woke to find her crying her eyes out, and he wouldn't be in any state to discuss this for several more hours.

She was able to doze after that, feeling more peaceful after having gotten some clarity of mind. But mostly she just revelled in his presence, rubbing his back, running her fingers through his hair, and listening to the reassuring sound of his deep and even breathing. Which is how she knew the moment that he returned to the waking world.

At first he just rubbed his cheek against her chest and began to stretch, but then, once he realized where he was and exactly what he was doing he gasped and went absolutely still. She continued to play with his hair, hoping to demonstrate that not only was she awake, but she wasn't upset by their rather unconventional sleeping arrangement. However, that message didn't seem to get through.

"How much trouble am I in?" His voice was raspy and, frankly, sexy as hell- thoughts like that were going to take some getting used to.

Hermione braced herself against this new, wonderful, awareness of him and just giggled. "Oh, if you were in trouble you'd know it already."

He finally looked up at her warily, doubt written all over his face. She giggled again, feeling like a silly little girl, but enjoying the freedom to be herself with him. She regarded him carefully, marveling at the difference a few hours could make. He'd definitely looked better. His eyes were bleary and bloodshot, one side of his face- the cheek that had been pressed against her was red and appeared smashed, and there was dried drool at the corner of his mouth. And, Merlin help her, all she could think was that it was adorable.

"Notice the placement of my knee," she shifted the leg he was still straddling demonstratively. "If I was upset, you'd be in a world of pain right now."

His eyes went wide and he practically vaulted off of her. Flopping down beside her and not-so-subtly grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch, he then began to rub his hands up and down his face vigorously. She let him have his moment and didn't point out that he'd just been on top of her and therefore she was already well aware of his current _state_. Not to mention that it was morning and he was a man.

"I'm really sorry Hermione, I don't know what I was thinking, I don't remember coming in here." He'd gone bright red and sounded absolutely wretched.

She didn't say anything, just regarded him carefully as he rubbed his eyes with such intensity it seemed like he thought if worked hard enough, he could wipe away his embarrassment. And she realized that as mortified as he apparently was to have awoken in her bed, that if he didn't even remember coming into her room, then he didn't remember what he'd said to her either. Well, she wasn't going to pretend it hadn't happened, but she could give him a few minutes to get himself together.

"Go freshen up, I'll start breakfast." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead and then climbed out of bed. She walked to the door without looking back, grabbing her robe and pulling it on along the way. She felt his eyes on her the whole way.

In the large, modern kitchen of the Swiss chalet Harry had rented them for the week she pulled out the ingredients for bacon, eggs, and toast. She wasn't much of a cook, but she could manage that much, and because- with the exception of keeping their wands on hand- they had agreed to go fully muggle for this holiday, there were no hangover potions to be had, and Harry would probably be craving something greasy.

She was in the middle of frying the bacon when she heard a crash from the direction of Harry's room, and then the sound of somebody running- feet pounding on the floor of the corridor and then down the stairs. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Harry rush into the kitchen, still pulling a shirt over his head. She watched him and resisted the urge to lick her lips. She'd seen him like this hundreds, if not thousands of times. Hell, she'd seen him naked- never intentionally, or for very long, but even magical tents aren't designed for full time living and she'd gotten a peek or two in those months they'd shared one.

She had also been well aware for a long time that Harry was a good looking wizard. But she'd never been so affected by him before. It was amazing what one tiny, little life changing revelation can do to a person.

"Hermione," he began, stumbling towards her but then he stopped, obviously at a loss for what to say. He looked absolutely terrified, and she was now certain, as she suspected when she heard the crash, that he'd remembered what he'd said to her last night.

She turned her head back around and methodically started flipping the bacon, using the time it took to complete the task to gather her courage. "You know," she said as casually as she could manage, "I'm not sure I like this."

She actually heard his breath catch.

"Like what?" He asked, with such obvious fear in his voice that she longed to reassure him, but she couldn't bear to turn around lest she lose her nerve.

"You figuring out something before me." He was silent so she continued. "Given our history, and you having the emotional range of a teaspoon and all that," she smiled to herself and was pleased to hear him huff out a laugh. "I really should have been the one to realize I was completely in love with you first." She took a deep breath, slightly stunned at the depth of emotion she felt when she said that out loud, but she charged on. "I would have been much subtler in letting you know. Crawling into bed with me and telling me you wanted me to marry you and have your babies was quite Gryffindor of you, though that might be negated by the fact that you had to get drunk first," she teased, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt- she didn't want him to question her conviction, she may have been oblivious as little at eight hours ago, but she was now certain of her feelings for him.

But she didn't truly have time worry before his arms were around her, his lips at her neck, his beard scraping against the delicate skin of her throat. She shuddered. She had a _thing_ about the beard he'd been sporting for the past few months- though she was only now realizing it was a thing. She'd been a blind fool.

When he'd told her that he was considering shaving just to appease Molly Weasley- who apparently hated it- Hermione had responded that she thought it made him look quite dashing. His reaction now took on an entirely new meaning. Considering there had been no more talk of shaving after that.

"That wasn't nice," he growled, "I thought I'd ruined it."

"Ruined what?"

"Our friendship."

She flicked off the burner and leaned back against him, taking a few deep breaths. "Harry, I can't think of a single thing you could do that would ruin our friendship," she said as she placed her hands over his at her waist.

"Am I honestly not even going to get a lecture for coming into your room last night, basically face planting into your cleavage and making myself at home there?"

She shrugged, feeling a little shy, but forced herself to be very honest with him as she tilted her head back to run her nose along his jawline as she spoke. "I liked it, you're welcome there anytime." She bit her lip, almost not believing her own daring.

"You're playing with fire witch," he growled.

She spun to face him and reached up to loop her arms around his neck. She felt immediately empowered by the wild look in his eyes. "You would never hurt me."

"No, not intentionally." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "You're my best friend, I respect you more than anybody in the world and yet all I can think about right now is how I've been fantasizing about laying you out on that table," he jerked his head in the direction of the dining area where there was an absolutely massive table, "and making a meal out of _you_ ever since we arrived."

Hermione whimpered and pressed herself closer to him. "Does that mean what I think it means?" Her breath hitched when she felt his erection pressing against her belly as the reality sunk in that his was _Harry_ and he wanted _her._

"It means every single thing you want it to mean, there's nothing I don't want to do to you if you'll let me." He ran his hands down her sides until he was firmly gripping her hips.

"Oh Merlin, Harry," she said breathily.

"But here's the thing," he took a deep breath and a half step back, she automatically went to follow his but his hold on her hips prevented it. "I know you, I know how your brain works. If you need to discuss this, then tell me to walk away right now. I'll go and take a cold shower and we can talk until that beautiful mind of yours is fully satisfied," he said, lifting a hand and brushing his fingers against her temple. "I won't screw this up, you mean far too much to me."

She took a deep breath and did her best to consider his words, no matter how much her body was screaming at her to throw herself as him. And she appreciated the offer. He was right, she had a million questions, and it spoke to how well he knew her, and how much he cared for her that he was making it in the first place, as she could tell that the very last thing he wanted to do right now was walk away from her.

And she thought that if he did she might actually spontaneously combust. It may have seemed reckless, but when it came down to it she trusted Harry with every single part of her, knew he would take care of her. They could talk later. Right now she just needed him.

"I don't want you to take any kind of shower unless I'm in there with you," she admitted, a little shocked by the flirtatious quality of her voice, and especially by her bold assertion.

His green eyes went almost completely dark and for a moment he just stared at her and then with those lightning fast reflexes, before she could really register what was happening, he swooped down and captured her lips with his. It was more promise than kiss at first- as if he was affirming to her that, of course this was how it should be, how it was meant to be. But then he gently began to move his lips against hers, and she responded eagerly.

It was reverent and beautiful, and _everything_. But after only a few moments she felt his hands on her face, gently pulling her away from his mouth, and she raised her own hands to his jaw. When their eyes met she was grinning and he beamed back at her in return.

"Harry," she gasped, in awe of the feelings a mere meeting of lips had evoked, their magic pulsed between them, longing for more and she took a shuddering breath.

He closed his eyes and let out a little laugh. "Yeah, I know. Wow." When he opened his eyes again, his expression was almost feral and he reached down and yanked her into his arms.

She yelped in surprise and then started to laugh, a happy, free sound she almost didn't recognize as coming from her. "Going to lay me out on that table?" She asked, gesturing to the dining area, feeling excited and surprisingly un-apprehensive about the idea.

He smiled down at her, the expression on his face adoring. "We have plenty of time for the table, but I do have some standards Hermione, that's not where I'm going to make love to you for the first time."

"Oh, okay, yeah," she responded, and with anybody else she would have been embarrassed by how breathless she sounded.

"So, sofa or bed?" He insisted, those beautiful eyes of his sparkling at her with mischief, but also with something more, something which made her feel special and lent her a previously unforeseen level of confidence.

 _Because this is Harry_ , her brain reminded her.

"Sofa is closer," she responded immediately.

"Brightest witch of her age," he quipped as he began striding towards the living room. "Though I was beginning to have my doubts."

"Excuse me!" She feigned offense, even as she sunk into his embrace.

"Did you really not know?"

"Know what?" She wondered, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

"How I felt about you? I really thought you at least suspected that I was hopelessly and rather pathetically pining for you, but were politely ignoring it for the sake of our friendship."

"I had no idea," she confessed quietly and he just nodded.

He threw himself onto the couch when he reached it and she let out a screech but wasn't even jostled within his strong embrace. "Harry!" She shrieked. He ignored her as he rearranged her until she was straddling his lap and when they were face to face again spoke: "Hi,"he whispered.

"Hi," she said in return, her smile felt like it might split her face wide open.

He gave her hips a squeeze and lifted his hands to part the sides of her robe and pull it off, then worked them under her shirt to rub up and down her sides and ducked his head to nuzzle the exposed swells of her breasts.

She sighed at the soft, arousing sensation but couldn't resist teasing him. "You've been taking a lot of liberties with my person lately, Mr. Potter.

He snickered against her skin but didn't stop his ministrations and still managed to sound almost whiny when he answered. "You promised me I wouldn't get into trouble for that Miss Granger, in fact I distinctly remember you saying 'anytime.'" He nipped at her clavicle. "And I warned you that you were playing with fire."

In fact, it felt like he was setting her on fire, and she was rapidly losing any inhibitions she may have had left. She thought about it for only a moment before reaching up to pull the thin straps of her top down her arms, letting it pool around her waist. He gasped and momentarily froze before slowly trailing his hands up her torso and reverently tracing the curves of her breasts.

"Oh Merlin," he whispered.

A sense of pride and satisfaction flared up within her, but she was on a mission. She used his distraction as a chance to grab the hem of his tee shirt and pull it up and over his head, she threw it behind her not caring where it landed.

"You know it's funny," Harry said after a few minutes, raising his eyes to hers, "a couple of years ago I would have said that I knew everything about you. Your routine, how you take your coffee and your tea, all of your favorite foods, the list of books you were reading. All the little things you learn by being somebody's very best friend for as long as we have been. But it's the things I don't know that have been driving me out of my mind lately."

"What don't you know?" She asked, her breath hitching as he circled one nipple with his thumb.

"I don't know where you like to be kissed and touched that most turn you on. I don't know if you're vocal in bed," he leaned down and flicked that same nipple with his tongue. "Are you bossy, or is that the one place you can stand to let somebody else take control?" He lifted his head and kissed her. "I don't know how you look when you come, and Merlin but that one has been making me crazy. I so want to see that." He took a deep breath. "And I don't know if I should shut up right now or risk scaring you away."

She licked her lips. "No, no I like it, and I trust you Harry."

He nodded and kissed her, long and unhurried, her breasts pressed deliciously against his firm chest and heat built from her core until she began to squirm in his lap searching for more.

"So beautiful and so responsive," he breathed between kisses, carefully massaging her breasts, "so much better than I ever could have imagined, and believe me I have imagined." He smirked up at her.

She squirmed on his lap again, tried to climb off to get a little more control but he wrapped one arm around her and held her still.

"Harry," she whined, "If you don't take the rest of my clothes off soon- well I don't know what it'll be, but I'll do something about it!"

He had the nerve to laugh. "And there she is," he said, affection clear in his voice.

"Shut up," she responded against his lips.

"It's so wrong that you yelling at me is such a turn on. It's a miracle I survived Hogwarts, and I'm not referring to all the things that tried to kill me while I was there." He pinched her bum for emphasis and she squealed and then started to laugh too.

"Harry, how can you be making me feel all these things at once?" She asked into the curve of his neck where she'd buried her face.

He stopped all movement for a moment and then ran a comforting hand up her spine. "That's not me sweetheart, that's us."

She took a deep breath and pulled back so that she could see his face. "Yeah." She pressed a kiss to his lips and then placed her forehead against his. "Would you make love to me now, please?"

She didn't expect the way his entire face lit up at her request.

"What?" She wondered, running a hand through his hair.

He shook his head, "Nothing, it's just something about hearing you actually say that. And the answer is yes, absolutely." He paused. "You know I love you, so very much, don't you?"

She nodded and huffed. "But we're gonna talk about how I managed to miss that fact later. I'm really not okay with that."

He laughed again, actually threw his head back and let loose as he held her close, she cuddled into his neck and grinned to herself. "I love you too, very much," she said quietly, when he'd calmed.

"Oh Hermione," he sighed, and stood with her still in his arms, then turned and set her back down on the sofa. She lay back on the piece of furniture that was easily as wide as a single bed and reached out her arms for him, he eagerly but carefully crawled on top of her.

He removed her sleep shorts and knickers and chuckled as she pushed his pants and boxers down his legs with her toes. Their magic danced across their skin and Hermione gasped when she felt how hungry hers was, it had never reacted to another person like this before.

He eased himself between her legs and pressed himself between her folds. She felt her eyes go wide.

"Okay?" He asked her quietly.

She nodded. "Yes. Please now, Harry."

He entered her in one swift stroke and she cried out as he clutched her to him. But he didn't ask her again if she was alright, there was no longer any questioning that as their magic met and melded until they were as joined as any two people ever had been.

She didn't realize there were tears streaming down her face until Harry started wiping him away with the pads of his thumbs even as he continued to move within her, their magic swirling around and through them. Before she knew it she was coming with yet another cry but found herself caught in his arms and their magic, and was gently carried back to reality.

"So beautiful," he murmured as he peppered her face with kisses. She opened her eyes to see him smiling at her softly.

She reached up and raked his sweaty hair out of his eyes, beaming at him in response."Wow," she laughed.

"Yes, definitely wow," he rolled off of her carefully but immediately tucked her into his side, summoning a blanket to cover them.

"Show off," she accused good naturedly.

"Have to keep my witch warm," he said as he rubbed his chin gently against the top of her head.

"I should scold you for being so possessive." She sighed and buried her face in his chest. "But I like it," she admitted.

They lay there in contented silence for a few minutes before Hermione's curiosity won out. "How long, Harry?"

"How long have I been in love with you, or how long have I known?" He surmised.

"Either. Both." She giggled, she felt absolutely giddy, but also strangely nervous.

"I think I fell in love with you sometime around when you hugged me for the first time. But I've only known for about a year," he sighed, "it's been a long year."

"I'm sorry," she said, a little devastated that he'd been alone with this for so long. It was her self-appointed mission to take care of him, after all.

"It's not your fault, sweetheart. But I do have to ask what you thought was going on? I've been playing 'hide my erection' around you for a full year now. I haven't been hard this often since I was fifteen, and back then it was at least much more random, it wasn't concentrated on one person who might notice. I was worried you would start to think I'd developed an unnatural fondness for throw pillows."

She gave a startled laugh. "Oh, that actually makes so much sense! I just never thought you saw me like that, it didn't even occur to me!"

"You ridiculous witch." He shook his head. "I have this gorgeous best friend who has no idea how attractive she is and likes to show up and my house in skimpy sleepwear whenever she wants to raid my library or just doesn't feel like being alone. She doesn't wear a bra and she has no conception of personal space. Merlin woman, I have all the respect for you in the world but I'm not dead." He'd pulled down the blanket and begun nuzzling her breasts again.

"You're much more of a breast man than I would have thought, given the witches you've dated in the past," she said with some humor, thinking of the slim, athletic types he usually seemed to be attracted to.

"I think I'm just a Hermione man, to be honest."

She snorted. "What a line."

He pulled away from her chest and looked at her very seriously. "It's just true," he shrugged and situated her head back on his shoulder.

She contemplated that. "But what changed, Harry? I've always been a woman, and it's not like you'd never seen me in night clothes before, how did you realize? Because if you hadn't come to me last night, I'm not sure how long it would have taken me to figure it out."

"Our dynamics changed," he responded immediately.

She turned her head to prop her chin on his chest and look up at him. "What do you mean?"

"At Hogwarts and during the war we were both just so wrapped up trying to stay alive. You were my support system, a lot of the time you were my _entire_ support system. I counted on you so much, I don't think I could afford to admit to myself how very much you meant to me."

She blinked up at him. "You dated other witches during that time," she said, hating the sudden stab of jealousy she felt, and how petulant she sounded.

He gave her an indulgent smile. "I did, I _was_ a teenage boy, and I wanted more than anything to be normal."

"I- yes, of course," she said, feeling stupid.

He snickered but continued. "But then, when the war finally ended and Ginny and I broke up, I no longer needed you for survival. We became much more equal in our friendship, peers instead of me being somebody that you felt you had to take care of. But despite that I noticed how much I still needed you in my life. I started longing to take care of you as well as you've taken care of me all these years. And it just became obvious that anything I'd felt for any other woman I'd ever had romantic intentions with, was a drop in the ocean of what I felt for you."

"Oh," she gasped.

He gave her a squeeze. "And it's not like I was unaware that you were an attractive woman before, but I didn't feel free to want you the way a man wants a woman, because I didn't have anything to offer you then. I didn't mean to use Ginny, but that's essentially what I did, and deep down I knew it."

"Don't think of it like that, Harry. That's why people date, to try on a relationship and test your compatibility. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't."

"Hmmm," he murmured noncommittally. "Do you remember when I went on that mission in Russia last summer?"

"Of course I do, I was worried sick for two weeks!"

"I came home and there you were in my library, wearing my clothes, rearranging the charms section; which was especially amusing given the fact that you were the one who organized it in the first place."

Hermione felt her cheeks flame and she hid her face against his chest again. "I'm sorry, I suppose I was rather presumptuous. I just really love Potter House and I missed you, I wanted to be in a place that reminded me of you and your home is absolutely steeped in your family magic, it's very comforting."

He chuckled. "Hermione, you decorated Potter House, you oversaw the refurbishment of the gardens, you picked out my house elf, for Merlin's sake!"

"Winky needed a family!" She defended a little hysterically.

She'd written to Harry frantically after she'd returned to Hogwarts for her last year and discovered how badly Winky was taking Dobby's death. The poor elf had needed to bond to a powerful wizard to survive, and Hermione and just happened to know one who also needed an elf to help with the upkeep of his recently discovered ancestral home. But she had been a bit liberal with the terms 'a matter of life and death,' and 'come immediately.' He'd actually busted into the Great Hall during breakfast looking ready to take on Voldemort again- he was never going to let her live it down.

He tapped on her cheek until she lifted her face again. "Don't apologize for that, don't ever apologize for any of it. When I walked into the house that night and saw you there, I wasn't even surprised. You being there was what made it a homecoming. And that's when I knew that nobody else could ever be Lady Potter."

Hermione let out a little sound of protest, she knew how much Harry wanted a family, it would have been terrible if he'd forgone that had she not felt the same way about him.

He shook his head, obviously understanding her thoughts. "It wouldn't have been fair to any other witch. I would never be willing to give you up, and I would always have felt how she was lacking in comparison."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"So, what do you say, do you want the job?"

She blinked and a few tears fell. "I-" she stuttered, "Harry, did you just _propose_?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then wiped a hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew. "I guess I did. I'm sorry Hermione, you know I'm terrible at this romantic stuff."

"You planned a pretty romantic holiday in the Swiss Alps for us," she countered, still feeling dumbfounded by the turn this conversation had taken.

"If I had been trying to be romantic it would have been a failure. I just wanted to arrange something that we would both enjoy. We needed a break, you, especially, work too hard."

"You know that actually makes it more romantic, right?" She began to trace the planes of his toned abdomen and smiled to herself when he shivered. "The fact that you weren't even trying, you just wanted to make me happy. And let me say, you know me well, this place is great."

"I'm glad you think so."

Butterflies erupted in her stomach in response to the intensity of his gaze and she got lost in it before something occurred to her. "Harry, did you arrange this as an all muggle trip to keep Ron from trying to tag along?"

He winced. "Please don't say the 'R' word when we're naked," he pled, looking rather nauseous.

"The 'R' word?" She asked incredulously. "You mean Ronald?"

"Hey, he's my best mate, but this would be the absolute worst time to accidentally summon him."

"Accidentally summon him?" She scoffed.

She felt him shrug. "It wouldn't be the first time."

There was a beat of silence as she processed that and then she burst into a fit of giggles. She whacked his chest. "Harry James!" She admonished once she caught her breath, "I cannot _believe_ you just made that joke."

She felt him place his chin on the top of her head and rub gently. "I really didn't mean anything by it, he is my best mate, besides you, and any other time I'd be happy to see him. Just not today." He sobered. "And yes, that may have been part of my motivation, all I wanted for my birthday was some time alone with you, is that so terrible?"

"Not terrible at all." She was very happy they were alone.

"And if he had come he would have brought Eloise along, and that would have been too awkward. It would have been like a couple's weekend and it would have been hard for me to pretend like that wasn't exactly what I wanted. I certainly didn't see this in our future," he hugged her closer to him, "I definitely didn't plan it."

She absorbed that. "He's going to be really angry," she said in a small voice.

"Will that stop you? Will you give us up if he demands it?"

She didn't hesitate, she'd made her decision a long time ago. "I'll always choose you," she lifted a hand to his face and cupped his cheek. "I would just prefer that he not push the issue, we've been friends for a long time."

Harry took a deep breath. "He always comes back," he reminded her. "He throws a tantrum and he storms out, but he always comes back because he genuinely loves both of us. I like to think that if he sees that we're happy together, he'll accept it."

She nodded as she stroked his face. "He won't be the only one though. A lot of Weasleys are going to be upset. And everybody has an opinion about what you do and who you have relationships with. They'll have a problem with me for all sorts of reasons."

"I don't care," he shot back.

She looked at him sharply.

"I don't, Hermione." His tone was firm and brokered no argument. "This is my life and I think it's about time I got something that I wanted. The public is fickle, you know that. The Weasleys, our other friends, they'll get over it if they really care about us. And if you're worried about Ginny, well, she already knows how I feel about you."

Hermione froze. "She does?"

"She confronted me and she was more understanding than I would have expected. I think it helped that I could honestly tell her that I didn't realize until after we had broken up, and that nothing even close to inappropriate had ever happened."

"Wow." She pursed her lips and nodded. "Okay," she said snuggling against him.

"Is there anything else?" He asked after a while.

"Just one thing," she said, hiding a smile. He wasn't going to expect what she had to say next.

"Shoot, sweetheart."

"You really want to marry me?"

He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look directly at him. "More than anything."

She nodded. "Okay then."

"Okay then?"

"I'll marry you."

"What?!" He cried sitting up suddenly, pulling her with him.

"Well you did ask," she reminded him innocently.

"Well yeah, but I was going to do it again...you know, better." He was just staring at her, his eyes huge with disbelief.

"Are you taking it back?" She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes teasingly.

"No!"

She just sat there, smiling at him as she waited for him to really catch on. It took only a minute before he was covering her mouth with his and then lifting her into his arms. She laughed at his obvious joy. "Where are you going?" She asked against his lips.

"To make love to my fiancée for the first time. I think we should try it in a bed this time."

"Okay, but I'm still interested in that table idea."

His laughter rang throughout the chalet and Hermione thought it was probably the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

 **Author's note:** **So, what did y'all think? I'm so nervous because this is my first time posting Harmony, or anything other than Dramione, actually. This little story has at least a chapter or two left in it, would you like to see that? As with all of my WIPs there's a Pinterest board for this story on my account, same username there. Just FYI: I started this because I wanted to write something Harry centric on his birthday, so it seemed fitting to post it to celebrate Hermione's.**

 **For those of you who already know about this, I apologize, but something crazy awesome happened last week. I was nominated for some awards. They are hosted by the Beyond the Book Fanfiction Nook group on Facebook. I was nominated for best new author and a couple of my other fics were also nominated. If you feel so inclined I would be so grateful if you would go over there and vote. If not, I'd still encourage you to go over there and look at the list of nominees, it's all Harry Potter but with lots of different pairings: https*:*/*/*docs*.*google*.*com*/*forms*/*d*/*e*/*1FAIpQLSf9h-zaH8sTTErFV0GU*_R1bCLNUDW-HszRzcuH*J7Ikk3lCZbA*/*viewform**

 **Just copy and paste and remove the asterisks. Sorry, I know that's a pain but this site won't allow links**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry casually walked past his fiancée's assistant with a smile and a nod. He didn't wait to be announced or shown in- occasionally he exploited the fact that he was, well, him. But he paused before he actually entered her office. He'd thought this sense of nervous excitement he got every time he knew he was going to see his best friend would fade now that they were actually together, but he'd been wrong, it had actually ratcheted up a few notches. Though it was now much more excitement than nerves.

He opened her door but she didn't even look up. "You can just leave that in my inbox Claudia," she said while scribbling furiously on a roll of parchment, "thank you for getting it to me so quickly."

He cleared his throat and her head shot up. Her eyes went wide and she gasped. "Fuck me."

Harry couldn't help but let out a startled laugh at her completely uncharacteristic use of foul language. He also couldn't resist making the obvious joke. "Is that an invitation?" He wondered, strolling into her office and closing the door behind him.

She buried her face in her hands and let out a little growl. "What are you doing to me?" She snapped. "It's my first day back at work, I can barely stop thinking about you, and it doesn't help that you kept me up half the night. And now you come in here looking like that?"

Harry discreetly glanced down at himself to make sure that he was fully dressed, though he knew that he must be, because he'd just left Hogwarts. And even if everybody else had been too intimidated to say something to him, Minerva McGonagall would definitely have told him if he'd walked into her school dressed inappropriately. He stopped halfway between the door and her desk and regarded her with concern; it was unlike Hermione to seem quite so unhinged, and while he'd expected her to be surprised to see him, he thought it would be happily so.

"Hermione?" He questioned tentatively.

She slowly raised her head and moved her hands to cover her heated cheeks. "I'm sorry, can we start over?"

He shrugged. "Sure."

She took a deep breath and then smiled brightly at him. "Hi Harry, would you like to have a seat? What are you doing here?"

He shrugged again as he fell into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "I missed you and I didn't want to wait to tell you what I've been up to this morning."

"Oh," she sighed, then stood up and rounded her desk, seating herself on his lap, she kissed his forehead, right on top of his scar. "Hello handsome."

He gathered her closer, eternally grateful for her complete acceptance of him, literal scars and all. "Well I'm glad you think so," he cupped her jaw and kissed her tenderly. "And hello to you too. But what, exactly, is so shocking about my appearance?"

"You're wearing your dress uniform," she groaned.

"You saw it this morning."

"May I refer you to the part where you kept me up half the night? You left before sunrise, I barely opened my eyes when you were saying goodbye, and I definitely didn't pay any attention to what you were wearing."

He nodded, she'd been completely bleary eyed through their goodbye kiss. "But it's just my dress uniform, you've seen me in it before."

"Yes, back when I wasn't allowed to lust over my best friend. Now I just want to…" she trailed off and began to beat her forehead against his shoulder.

He grinned to himself. "Hermione," he sang.

"What?" She griped.

"Is the unflappable Miss Granger, shall we say, _affected_ by me in a dress uniform?"

She groaned but at least stopped using his shoulder as a means of self-flagellation. "Normally I prefer you in muggle clothing, but there's just something so sexy about this," she admitted, tugging at his collar.

"Are you going to have your way with me?" He growled, palming her hip.

He expected to have a little fun, maybe a playful fight, because there was no way that _Hermione Granger_ would fool around while at work, she was sure to berate him for even suggesting it. So, he was in no way prepared for the heat in her eyes when she lifted her head. She crashed her mouth against his and despite his surprise he could only respond with equal enthusiasm, it was not something he would ever deny her, over and over their lips met, their tongues tangled, she tunneled her fingers into his hair and he reached up to palm one breast.

"Harry!" She keened and then she suddenly jumped up and he watched in shock as she hiked her skirt up and then straddled his lap.

"Just for the record sweetheart, you being driven out of your mind for me is the hottest thing I've ever seen," he rasped against her mouth.

He hastily threw up a few wandless charms to protect their privacy, and he'd never felt so grateful for the surge of power he'd been gifted when that Merlin forsaken horcrux had been removed from his head. It meant that he could perform such simple magic almost effortlessly and Hermione didn't even seem to notice, which was perfect, because the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was distract her.

He considered using another spell to unbutton her blouse, but then decided he wanted the pleasure of unveiling her for himself, and he did so carefully, by feel. He pulled away from her lips to nuzzle the soft swells of her breasts above her lacy bra- he might have been a little obsessed with them, but he fully credited their delicious irresistibly with getting him and Hermione together, and so he intended to spend the rest of his life appreciating them for that. However, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the diamond ring dangling on a chain and caught in her cleavage.

He hooked a pinky through it and smirked up at his love. "What's this?" He questioned.

"You know very well what it is, you gave it to me," she said in that bossy voice that, Merlin help him, he'd come to love. The ferocity of her glare was almost completely diminished by the way she was grinding against him.

That had been a night Harry would never forget. The idea of an engagement ring was still new to magical Britain- a cross-over from the muggle world, which meant that it had been slow to catch on. But he and Hermione had both been raised in the muggle world and they enjoyed spending time there quite often, he wanted to honor that. He thought that she deserved a ring, and he also just wanted her to have one. So, once they'd emerged from something like three days of constant lovemaking, he'd sent a patronus off to Winky asking her to send the ring he'd set aside for Miss Hermione- it was never going to belong to anybody else while he was alive- to him in Switzerland.

It had arrived while they were sitting in the hottub, Hermione had raised a questioning eyebrow at the appearance of an owl on their supposed "all muggle" holiday, but had quickly dissolved into happy, rather hysterical tears at the sight of the ring. Because it was the same ring she'd found in his vaults when they'd been cataloguing them in the aftermath of the war. The Potter family vaults had been left a wreck in his parents' rush to go into hiding making the massive undertaking necessary and Hermione had been an enthusiastic volunteer. And though she had tried to conceal it from him when she happened upon it while going through the family jewels, she had absolutely fallen in love with the three-stone diamond ring that had belonged to his grandmother. He was now convinced it was always meant to be hers.

"I know what it is," he said, kissing her neck, "I'm just surprised to see you wearing it."

He actually felt her skin heat with embarrassment.

"I know I can't wear it on my finger yet, but I didn't want to just leave it at home."

"Home," he hummed against her skin, "I like the sound of that."

They'd decided to take things slowly, in terms of actually marrying, but neither was willing to live apart, and she'd begun moving into Potter House the moment they'd arrived back from Switzerland. It wasn't all that much of a change, she already had a room in the house and stored many of her things there, they were simply done pretending it was a platonic arrangement.

"I'm fairly sure you said that _I_ was your home," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "Gods, I love you so much."

"Me too," she murmured, she'd unfastened his robes at the waist and then undone his trousers, and while he had known where this was going, he was still a little shocked when she grasped his erection, and then simply pushed her knickers aside, placing him between her wet folds.

"Hermione!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Of course not." He settled his hands at her hips and as she sank down onto him, his eyes rolled back in his head, she felt so good, he swore it just kept getting better.

They sighed simultaneously. She pressed her face against his neck as she began to move. "I missed you," she confessed, "and it's only been like eight hours."

They'd had sex all over the chalet he had let for their holiday. They had hardly been able to keep their hands off of each other, like children finally given permission to do something naughty. They'd loved each other slowly and with gentle care, fast and furiously, sometimes even when they'd both been half asleep. Their trust in each other was absolute. She'd given him complete and unlimited access to her body and he'd never been more touched by a privilege.

Sex with Hermione was a revelation.

But she'd never exhibited the kind of need she was displaying at the moment as she rode him, seemingly without restraint, in her office in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. She clawed at his robes, obviously wanting them open at his chest as well and he happily obliged her- this time he used a spell. And upon getting access to his bare torso she immediately began to run her hands over his skin in an almost reverent manner. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and he knew exactly what that meant.

"I know you're getting close for me, go ahead sweetheart," he encouraged gruffly.

"You too," she panted, "at the same time, I want to feel you."

"I can do that." He gripped her hips. "Ready?"

She nodded and he slammed her unto him, once, twice and then he was delighted when she cried out her release with his name on her lips. He _loved_ the way she said his name, and how often she said it while they were joined. He let himself go then, the pulsing of her body drawing out his own release, he threw his head against the back of the chair, as pleasure exploded throughout his system.

He came back to reality to see her smiling shyly at him, she was caressing his cheeks and he was still inside of her.

"Thanks for putting up the charms, that could have been really embarrassing," she said with a blush, so contrary to the wanton behavior she'd just been displaying.

"I would never willingly let you be embarrassed," he responded immediately, "plus, I think I might have to kill anybody who saw you like that."

She gave him one final kiss, and then with an expression full of regret, climbed off of his lap.

They cleaned themselves up, using a combination of magic and good old fashioned muggle means to make themselves presentable again. When they were done he was thrilled that she simply dropped herself onto his lap again.

"You kept me awake last night just as much as I kept you up," he protested, like their discussion hadn't been interrupted.

She laughed and gestured to their general position. "Well, apparently I have a hard time resisting you."

"That's...kind of awesome."

She hummed in agreement. "Not that I'm not happy to see you- obviously, but what are you doing here? And in your dress uniform?"

"Well, I had a job interview and it only seemed appropriate that I wear my dress uniform for such an occasion. I came here to tell you about it."

He felt her freeze in his arms. "You had a what?" She asked sharply.

He understood her meaning and fought the urge to snap at her. "Do you really think I would accept a new job without discussing it with you? I was just hoping it might be a nice surprise, and I wanted to make sure the offer was officially on the table before I told you."

"Sorry," she apologized immediately, letting out a long breath, "I'm just used to you running off and doing stupid things."

"When was the last time I did something, something major and life changing, without consulting you?" He countered.

"Not since… not since the war." She sighed. "Oh Harry, I've been a real idiot."

"You were basically my keeper for seven years, I wouldn't expect you to get past that overnight."

"It's been three years," she pointed out.

"You were patient with me, I can be patient with you."

She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "Still, I think you've been more patient with me than I deserve, we're not kids anymore. I should give you more credit."

"You deserve all the things," he said, peppering her jaw with kisses. "And let's be honest, I owe you my life many times over."

Eight days she'd been his, and he didn't know if he'd ever get used to it, part of him hoped that he wouldn't, it was the most glorious feeling every time he remembered.

"So, about this job interview?" She prompted.

"It was at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts," she responded, uncomprehendingly.

"Minerva needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and I went up there to interview for the position."

Hermione snorted. "She's been offering you that on a regular basis since you finished auror training, you didn't have to interview."

"I didn't want special treatment."

"She knows your qualifications." She sighed, "but I understand what you mean, you're a good man Harry James. What I don't understand is, why now?"

"I always said that I would take it when the time was right."

"But there are still Death Eaters at large."

"True, but most of the worst ones have been captured and that's not really what I meant when I said that anyway."

"What did you mean, then?"

"Just that when I settled down," he shrugged in a typically self-deprecating manner as he toyed with the sleeve of her blouse.

"Harry! You don't have to do this for me, I would never try and dictate your career choices."

"I didn't think you were. But I know how you worry when I'm in the field, and that's not something you deserve. We've both already given up too much. Part of me wishes I had quit before- you were my family long before we got together. However, I felt an obligation I couldn't talk myself out of, but now I only feel obligated to you. I won't have you waiting at home, wondering if I'll make it back."

"Harry," his name crossed her lips on a stutter.

"And when they come along, our children deserve two parents. You're right, being an auror is dangerous, especially if you're Harry Potter. And I know how ambitious you are, teaching gives me regular hours, in case you need to work over. It's the perfect solution."

"Harry," she repeated.

"Unless you think it's a bad idea, for some reason. I didn't accept the job, I wouldn't do that without consulting you," he rushed to explain, feeling suddenly uncertain.

She started kissing him again in a way that made him wonder if enough time had passed for him to have her again. She almost certainly wouldn't allow that to happen in her office again, but perhaps they could apparate home for her lunch hour?

"Stop it, Harry James," she chided.

"That's uncanny," he laughed, "it's like you're reading my mind."

"Not without your permission," she grinned at him. She'd been studying mind magicks, as he very well knew. She couldn't stand that there was a whole branch of magic she knew nothing about. And, though neither had ever said it aloud, he knew that after what they'd both been through, she wanted them to be able to defend themselves in every way in the future. "But you are rather transparent." She reached down and stroked his growing erection. "I should probably get up," she sighed.

He held her tighter. "I can control myself," he assured her.

She narrowed her eyes at him but settled back on his lap.

"Are you going to take it?" She asked as she curled herself against him.

"Huh?" He responded dumbly.

"The job," she snickered.

"Yeah, if you're okay with it. I think I'd really like teaching."

"You're really good at it," she agreed, "that's why Minerva's been so persistent, you know she doesn't care about your fame, she just wants the best possible people."

"She wants me to be the Gryffindor head of house too."

She pulled back so that he could see how pleased she was, "that's wonderful Harry!"

But he shook his head, "I wasn't planning to accept."

"Why not?"

"Because I'd be required to live in the castle during term and I don't want that for us. Would you want to live at Hogwarts?"

She pulled a face. "It's not ideal, but I wouldn't mind if you wanted to take the position."

He shook his head. "That's not all. The fact is that I'm Harry Potter. I don't like it but that comes with certain responsibilities and expectations. The students will always know that I was sorted into Gryffindor. I can't help that, but to accept the position would separate me from the rest of the school in a way I'm not comfortable with. I want to use my fame to bring everyone together, not align myself with just one segment of the student population."

She blinked at him for a good thirty seconds and he was certain he'd gotten it wrong until she began to kiss him, speaking between kisses, "I've never been so proud of you, you are such a good man, I love you so much." His heart lightened.

"Perhaps we should go have lunch, love?" He suggested when her ardour finally cooled. "We've been in here awhile."

Not that anybody would dare interrupt Harry Potter and Hermione Granger when they were behind a locked door and a silencing charm, but he would not have her the subject of rumors.

She nodded reluctantly and climbed off his lap. "What will Ron think of your job offer, have you already told him?" She held her hand out to help him up.

He shook his head. "He knows I have what basically amounts to a standing offer, but he doesn't know I've been planning to accept it or that that's where I was this morning." He snagged her around the waist and drew her into his body. "You'll always know everything first, from now on," he swore against her temple. "But don't worry, he's been chomping at the bit to go work with George, especially since he got serious with Eloise, he's only been staying here for me"

She nodded. "I'm glad, I would want you to do what makes you happy regardless, but I'm glad he won't be hurt unduly."

She suddenly went still in his arms and he could practically feel the stress radiating off of her. "Worried about tonight?" He surmised.

They were set to have dinner with Ron and his girlfriend at Harry's- their- house as a belated celebration of his birthday. It had been decided before they'd departed for Switzerland and they'd both felt that it was unfair to their friend to either put him off, or attempt to spend the evening lying to him about the altered nature of their relationship. That didn't make the prospect of explaining things to him any less daunting. They'd both been on the receiving end of his temper at its worst on more than one occasion and were dreading the possibility of facing it again.

"It'll be okay," he assured her," kissing her temple. "Come on, let's go home and _eat_ ," he waggled his eyebrows.

She whacked his arm but he noticed that she also didn't correct him.

* * *

"So, guys, how was Switzerland?" Ron asked as they dug into the roast Winky had prepared for them that evening. "Meet any hot birds, Harry? I hear those places are crawling with them, what do they call them? Ski bunnies? Absolutely mad sport if you ask me, but still, tell me you had _some_ fun."

Harry could feel Hermione begin to seethe beside him and considered going and hiding upstairs. Voldemort and his Death Eaters were one thing, but his best mates' fights terrified him.

"It's summertime Ronald, there's no snow for skiing," she snapped.

"It that a problem in muggle areas?"

"You know very well that muggles can't control the weather!" She hissed.

"That's right, I forgot," he nodded. "So, Harry?" He asked, before returning to his food, "a birthday shag?" He prompted between bites.

Harry could easily tell that Hermione's temper was rising with each word that their mutual best friend spoke, and he scrambled to figure out how to react, given their recently altered dynamic. Because the truth was that Ron hadn't really done anything wrong. He wasn't aware that he and Hermione were together, but on the other hand, Harry really thought that he should have learned not to be so crass around her by now. He knew very well how such talk bothered her. It almost seemed like he was baiting her, but Harry hadn't seen the man stoop to that level since they'd broken up.

He was surprised to see Eloise- who was absolutely lovely and the only witch he'd ever met who could begin to withstand his best mate's idiocy- looking strangely placid. Normally she wouldn't allow him to get away with being, well, such an idiot.

He took a deep breath. "No, Ron, Hermione and I were just there to enjoy a peaceful week hiking, lounging about, and exploring the countryside. We hired a car, saw a lot of scenery, it was nice," he corrected, although his assertion wasn't entirely true. It was what he had planned, but he'd ended up spending a lot more time exploring the curves of his fiancée's body than he had the peaks of the Alps surrounding their chalet, which is why he also didn't specifically deny the birthday shag.

"So you didn't get _any_?" Ron waggled his eyebrows. "That's not much of a way to celebrate your birthday, sounds downright boring, honestly."

Hermione dropped her cutlery. "Perhaps, Ronald, that's why you weren't invited," she snapped, before Harry could even begin to think of a way to quell her temper.

But then the oddest thing happened. Their mutual best friend began to smile, and then he began to laugh so uproariously that he had to push away from the table so he could bend over at the waist and try to catch his breath.

"Are you finished?" Asked Eloise rather crossly.

"Yeah," he chuckled.

"Explain then!" She ordered. "Look at them, Hermione's furious! If looks could kill she would have smited you already. And poor Harry looks ready to run and and hide!"

Harry just frowned, looking back and forth between them. He reached blindly for Hermione's hand and she took it immediately, intertwining their fingers.

"If looks could kill Hermione would have smited me a long time ago." Ron responded, and that sent him into another laughing fit until he had three people glaring at him. He finally managed to look up, saw their expressions and sobered, he looked from Harry to Hermione and back again. "I'm not blind you two, I've known for months you've fancied each other."

His girlfriend cleared her throat.

"Okay," he corrected, "Eloise pointed it out to me right after we got together." She cleared her throat again. "I probably would have continued to be an oblivious idiot otherwise. I'm sorry, Harry, I'll stop annoying your girlfriend."

Harry cut his eyes in Hermione's direction, hoping for some help in navigating this situation. But she just continued to glare at Ron and Harry agreed with Eloise, if looks could kill Ron would be dead. He looked back to see Ron's complexion rapidly paling. Hermione pulled her necklace out from inside of her shirt with such force that the chain snapped. She shoved the ring back on her finger and held it up for the couple in front of them to see. "Not girlfriend Ronald, _fiancée._ "

Harry sighed: that was one way to break their news, though certainly not his prefered method. He braced himself for the explosion that was surely impending. But instead of a roar of temper from Ron all he heard was some high pitched squealing and then Eloise basically leapt over the table to embrace Hermione.

"Oh Merlin, you have to tell me everything!" She took Hermione's hand to examine the ring. "It's so gorgeous, congratulations! Harry," she turned to face him, "you have excellent taste."

"Oh well," he stammered, utterly dumbfounded by what had just happened. "Thanks, but Hermione actually picked that out herself from my vaults when were we cataloguing and organizing them after the war."

"I wasn't thinking about this at the time," Hermione quickly defended, pointing between herself and Harry, "I just thought it was the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen, and I guess Harry noticed." She shrugged, but she shot him a warm smile and he relaxed.

"Well it suits," Eloise assured her.

"You think?" Hermione bit her lip.

"Yes, beautiful, elegant, but not overly fussy. It's not _trying_ to show off but you still can't help but notice it. Like you," she shrugged.

Oh, Harry really liked this witch.

"Really?" Hermione asked, and the doubt in her voice tore at his heart. He sometimes forgot that as much of a confident, independent woman as Hermione was, she could still be incredibly insecure about certain things.

For instance, when Ron had started seeing Eloise, Hermione had been unable to hide from Harry how big of a blow it had been to her ego. Eloise was blonde, blue-eyed, with that willowy figure so common amongst purebloods, even though, she herself was actually a half-blood. In short, in looks, she was everything that Hermione was not and his witch had taken that personally.

When she had come to the British Ministry on an exchange the year before, she'd been talked about for weeks: the American beauty everybody wanted a chance with. Harry hadn't known how to tell Hermione that everybody admired her beauty as well, but were largely too intimidated to approach her. And he'd been terrified to confess that he vastly prefered her wild hair, depthless eyes, and curvy figure lest he give away his own secret. He now cursed his cowardice.

Eloise batted at Hermione's arm playfully. "Of course! You're gorgeous. It would be terribly intimidating if you weren't also probably the kindest woman I've ever met."

Harry just swallowed convulsively and looked at Hermione, who stared at Eloise for a few moments. He could see that she was furiously trying to blink back tears. And then she turned to Ron who was gaping at his girlfriend and his ex like he'd never seen them before.

"Okay, you can keep her." Hermione intoned.

That seemed to bring him back to life. "Wait, don't I get a say in any of this?!"

"No," they said in tandem and then both returned to their seats. Harry immediately wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

"Thank you for that. I was afraid I hadn't been very welcoming." Hermione said to Eloise in a quiet voice as Harry tried, and failed to meet her eyes to give her some reassurance. Apparently she didn't want any help.

Eloise shrugged. "You were understandably cautious and protective. But do you have any idea how many witches warned me away from these two?" She gestured between himself and Ron. "I got more than one threat."

Harry felt his eyes widen in alarm and he looked to Ron to see that he too was visibly surprised and upset.

Hermione snorted. "I imagine most of the population under forty who could manage to track you down."

Eloise chuckled. "That sounds about right. But you, who had every reason to be suspicious and territorial were never even a little bit snide with me. I'm not sure you understand how much it helped shut people up once they saw us having lunch together. And I apologize if I haven't told you, but the highlighted map of London and annotated guide book have been an immense help. I know that must have take a bit of work and I really appreciate it."

"I know what it's like to enter a new world...without any guidance. I hoped that would demonstrate my intentions without being too invasive. But I've never been very good at reading those situations," Hermione demurred, hiding in her wine glass.

"I know this had the potential to be horrendously awkward," Eloise took a careful sip of her own wine. "But in the end I'm actually glad that it was you."

"You're _happy_ that Ron and I dated?"

"Well I wouldn't go overboard," Eloise said dryly and then she looked at Hermione and smirked and they both laughed.

Harry felt his eyes go wide and he met Ron's gaze to see that his friend looked equally shocked by this turn in the conversation.

"If you had been this specter of his past," continued Eloise, "this unknown woman that he spent most of his adolescence pining over, that would have been difficult to overcome. But I've seen you together, whatever romance you had is truly over. And you're great. Which is honestly a relief because if Ron had spent all that time with a total cow, well what would that have said about his taste in women?"

Hermione actually giggled.

"But the two of you simply didn't work. And after all that you're still friends, that's just so...nice. You clearly love each other but it's not the kind of love that I would ever worry about, and," she suddenly stopped speaking and looked between Harry and Hermione, blue eyes piercing, and lifted a hand to rub at her sternum, "you two. The way that you look at each other? I know that there are other factors, but I'm still shocked it's taken you this long to admit how you feel about each other, it's so beautiful. Okay, actually, I have to ask, what's taken you so long?"

Harry could swear he actually felt his blood pressure increase, and he didn't dare look at Ron.

"I didn't know," Hermione wailed, burying her face in her hands, but then peeking out to look at him furtively. "Am I really the _only_ person who didn't know?!"

He brought his hand to her lips and kissed her knuckles tenderly but was interrupted before he could reassure her.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Eloise.

Hermione just shook her head.

"Okay, that's it, we have to talk." Eloise stood up grabbing her wine glass and the bottle from the table and extending her arm to Hermione who grabbed her own glass and took it. Then they hooked arms. "You seriously have to tell me _everything_!" He heard Eloise demand as they strolled away without looking back.

"We'll send Winky when we're ready to see you boys again!" Hermione called out.

Harry just starred until long after they'd disappeared and then turned to see Ron looking equally flabbergasted.

As Harry worked up the courage to actually discuss this with his friend Ron dumped the remained of Eloise's plate onto his own and then began eating again- which meant things couldn't be that bad. At least Harry hoped that was the case.

"How mad are you?" Asked Harry quietly.

Ron looked up briefly, his gaze settling on Harry. "When me and Hermione got together you threatened me to within an inch of my life. The same goes for you." Ron said, pointing his knife at Harry, but then he shrugged. "Other than that, well this is better than having to break in two new people, that would be a real pain."

"And that's it?"

Ron took a deep breath and looked back up, meeting Harry's eyes. "I wish you'd told me how you felt about her."

Harry nodded. "I thought about it, but she's not a piece of land. And I didn't think it was fair to tell you when she didn't know, as if you had a prior claim on her, especially because I honestly never intended to tell her."

"Well," Ron said, reaching for some more bread and Harry recognized his friend's habit of attempting to out-eat his feelings, "I guess, as my girlfriend said: 'tell me everything,'" he mimicked with a little flourish of his almost empty wine glass.

"Sure," he nodded, "but Ron, there's absolutely no way I'm telling you _everything._ "

"Oh, thank Merlin," he exhaled in relief.

A couple of hours later they were tired of waiting to be summoned by their respective significant others and went looking for them instead. They found the witches in the sitting room adjoining the master suite, asleep on opposite couches, a new, half finished bottle of wine on the table between them.

"Should we wake them?" Ron asked.

"Nah," Harry responded, "maybe if we just hang about in here they'll wake on their own."

Ron nodded and went to sit on the floor at the base of the couch Eloise was occupying. And Harry did the same at Hermione's.

"Chess?" Ron wondered.

Harry nodded, resisted the urge to laugh at his friend's predictability, and just summoned a set to the coffee table between them.

"You said you loved Hermione like a sister, was that a lie?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry looked up and could immediately tell that his best mate was trying to regulate his temper in the face of what he felt was years worth of deception and that he'd been building up to ask this question all night.

They were finally really going to talk.

Harry took a deep breath in an effort to control his own temper. He'd been anticipating this, had given this a lot of thought, and he did owe Ron an explanation, even if he was feeling rather resentful of that- considering how protective he was of his relationship with Hermione.

"That was the only way I knew how to describe it at the time," he attempted to clarify.

"What does that mean?" Ron insisted.

Harry sighed, they came from some vastly different backgrounds. "I don't have a sister, Ron. At the time I had no active intentions towards Hermione, I just knew that she was essential to me in a way that I could only term as 'family.' I think I latched onto that, thinking it would help you understand without making me look like a rival and driving you away again."

Ron flinched and began to take great shuddering breaths. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, they avoided talking about that period in their friendship at all costs, but he was unwilling to lie or sugar coat this, it was too important.

Ron got himself under control and raised his head, and Harry finally saw the ire in his eyes that he'd been anticipating all night. "And what about _my sister,_ did you ever care about her at all?"

Harry's own temper flared- he hadn't been anticipating _that_ accusation, but forced himself to calm down, knowing that any significant upset with his magic would alert Hermione, she was incredibly attuned to him.

"I cared about her a great deal, I just ultimately realized that we weren't meant to be."

"Because of Hermione," Ron responded flatly.

Harry bit his tongue. "Because as compatible as we may have seemed, and as much as we enjoyed each other's company, it never _worked._ And maybe that's partially because of how I felt about Hermione," he admitted, "but it wasn't her fault, she was always completely respectful of my relationship with Ginny."

"You have more in common with Ginny," Ron insisted, in his typical bull-headed fashion.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe, from your perspective. But why does it matter? I choose Hermione."

"She was your best friend, all this time and you never even tried with her! It doesn't make any sense!"

"I thought you said you noticed how we felt for each other?"

"I thought it was a phase! I thought the pair of you were lonely and that you'd have a fling, maybe. I didn't think you'd get married!"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, beating back his frustration and trying to think of a way to explain. "Imagine you're alone in the woods, you have a hearty fire going. It keeps you warm, makes you feel safe. You have a good supply of wood and can easily keep it going, so eventually you start to take it for granted. Then one day, you see some torches in the distance, they're not nearly as bright or welcoming as the fire at your campsite, but you're curious. You go and check them out. They are a disappointment every single time. And that's when you realize how wonderful the fire is. Always there for you, unrelenting, ever welcoming, how could anything else ever compare once you see the truth of what's in front of you? How could you ever turn away again?"

Ron stared at him, eyes hard, before he let out a long sigh. "Ginny's a torch, Hermione's the fire?"

"Yes, and tell me you haven't felt the same way? I know you loved and continue to love Hermione, but does it compare to how you feel for Eloise?"

That brought him up short. He looked between the women surrounding them. "Okay," he admitted with a sigh, "yeah, I get that."

"And you know that they've just made some kind of witches pact to be friends forever, or something like that, right? And that our opinion is basically unnecessary?"

Ron's face fell. "We're doomed."

They chuckled and went back to their game.

"You've set the bar really high, you know that don't you?" Ron noted absentmindedly as he made a move a few minutes later.

Harry just looked at him questioningly.

"Together barely a week and you're already engaged," he reminded him with a roll of his eyes,

Harry glanced at the woman sleeping behind Ron. "If you're not ready to marry her, that's okay. She's obviously a very level- headed witch and understands."

"It's not that, it's just...I've been trying to find the best way to do it," Ron confessed on a sigh.

"Mate, if you're asking, I'll do my best to help, but you'd really be asking the wrong person."

Ron looked at him disbelievingly.

"Did you hear what I told you?" Harry chuckled to himself. "I blurted out a proposal without thinking. I am not romantic, I'm just lucky she loves me anyway."

Ron sobered. "Don't hurt her. I was serious before."

"I won't." He swore solemnly. "I mean I know I won't always get everything right, but I love her more than anything in the world."

"You really mean that, don't you?" Ron asked in surprise, they'd never had a conversation like this before, not just in regards to Hermione, but about their feelings.

"Yes," Harry answered holding Ron's gaze steadily so that he could see how serious he was, but he didn't feel the weight of the promise settle on him, it had happened long ago.

"Okay," and Harry could tell that Ron had finally really accepted it, no matter how much he'd said so in the previous hours.

"And I need to ask you for a favor," Harry screwed his eyes shut.

"Harry?"

"I know I've quit the Auror Corps, but I'll always be Harry Potter. If anything ever happens to me, make sure she's okay?"

"Yeah, of course, I thought that was understood."

"Things are different now, I needed to say it."

"Nothing could ever change that though, she'll always be my best friend and we'll take care of each other when we need it."

Harry nodded, swallowing down tears and desperately searched for a way to change the subject. "Speaking of, if you're looking for help with your proposal maybe you should talk to Hermione, she knows you really well, and not for nothing, she's a witch."

Ron looked thoughtful but just nodded and they returned to their game.

They played for awhile before Ron restarted the conversation

"They'll say terrible things about her, you know that right?" Ron glanced at Hermione worriedly.

"Then they'll know what it's like to really mess with me," Harry felt his magic crackle and only had to glance at Ron to see how shocked- and somewhat scared his best mate was by the reaction.

"Harry," Hermione grasped at his arm in her sleep and, like a well trained dog his magic settled immediately.

"Blimey," gasped Ron, "that was something."

"That was the best demonstration I could ever give you of the kind of power she has over me."

"Harry, I'm not sure that's healthy."

Ron's eyes flicked worriedly between them.

"She doesn't control me, Ron. She just knows me, even in her sleep she reacted to soothe me before I could do something I regretted. You've seen her calm me down- you've seen her be the _only_ thing that could calm me down a million times."

"You've always kind of understood each other…" he searched for a word.

"Intuitively?"

Ron snorted. "I really hope you're not going to start talking like her, but yeah. She always knew how to get to you, how to understand you. I just distracted you."

"Don't do that mate," Harry was quick to contradict his friend's self-deprecation. "You were invaluable to us all those years. And we've been the best Auror team the Ministry has ever seen." He paused and his eyes danced between the sleeping women. "They just deserve more than a couple of walking dead men. And let me say, Hermione was devastated by the thought that we might lose you over this, as was I.

"But you would have?" Ron challenged.

"Is there anything you wouldn't do for Eloise?" He countered.

Ron only had to think about that for a few moments before leaning forward and offering his fist for Harry to bump.

"Maybe from now on it could be the four of us?" Ron wondered.

"I'm not stupid enough to speak for Hermione, but yeah, that sounds pretty great."

They shared a brotherly smile but they didn't push the moment in the way Hermione would have tried to, had she been awake. They continued to play in silence for a long while.

After Ron won their second game he spoke again. "So, when's the wedding?"

Harry had known his friend long enough to be able to see that the question was asked with purpose, he just didn't know what it was.

"We were going to wait awhile, let the brou-ha-ha of our relationship die down a little."

"Well," Ron scoffed, "if that's the entirety of your plan, then it sucks. Is that the only reason for delaying?"

Harry only shrugged. "We just wanted people to get used to us being together, I suppose. It's bound to make waves."

"Harry, it's bound to make tsunamis, but do you have any other reason to wait?" He sounded impatient now.

Harry could only shrug again.

"Because when you announce your relationship you'll be hounded for months, after you announce that you're engaged it will only come back again, and when you announce a wedding? Harry, you're talking about years of scrutiny, even worse scrutiny than you're used to. Why allow them all that time to investigate and write speculative pieces? If you two are sure, and if I were you, I'd get it done in one fell swoop."

Harry could only stare in wonder at their friend's tactician's mind. He stroked Hermione's cheek. "Hmmm, Harry?" She wondered.

"Hi, sweetheart, we were just talking about something and I'm fairly sure you'll want to hear it."

"Harry," she repeated, sitting up and gifting him with a happy, lazy smile and then leaned in to kiss him. He allowed it, kissing her deeply, nearly getting lost in it before the clearing of a throat reminded him that they had an audience. He pulled away from her reluctantly. "I'm sorry to wake you, but Ron and I were talking and he had some ideas about us going public that I wanted you to hear for yourself."

"What?" She colored and turned to face Ron who had woken Eloise as well and was suddenly having a hard time looking them in the eyes. "Hey, um, I'm sorry about that."

"It's fine," Eloise said with a pointed look in her boyfriend's direction. "You two are adorable."

Hermione slid off the couch and cuddled into his side, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. "So what were these ideas?"

"Harry said that you were planning on having a long engagement to let things settle down, but you do realize that the opposite will happen? It will just give them more time to get worked up about it."

"What do you suggest?"

He shrugged. "Plan a wedding. Only let the people you trust most know that you're together. Give an interview right before the wedding announcing your relationship and your engagement. Then get married. They'll have so much to deal with all at once, you'll have a lot more control over the situation. And if nobody knows it's coming, it will be a lot easier to plan a private event, I can't imagine that the two of you want your wedding crawling with press."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. "That's brilliant. But won't it seem rather...scandalous?"

Ron just tilted his head in question.

"Won't it seem like we're rushing the wedding for some reason?" She clarified.

Ron frowned. "Are you pregnant?" He asked, looking as uncomfortable as Harry had ever seen him.

"What, no!"

"Then what exactly would the scandal be? It's perfectly understandable that you would keep your relationship quiet."

But Hermione didn't seem to hear him, she turned to Harry with an expression of horror on her face. "What if I'm pregnant!"

"You're on the potion, it's almost completely effective," he said, squeezing her in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion, though he didn't understand the source of her sudden panic.

"Almost. _Almost_. Stupid me didn't consider the Harry Potter factor!"

"The Harry Potter factor?" He heard Eloise ask.

"It's like Murphy's Law, but for Harry," Hermione explained, her attention on the other witch.

It was like being hit with ten bludgers simultaneously and he actually curled in on himself against the force of the blow. Hermione didn't seem to notice, she just jumped up, exclaiming: "I need the library!" And then she rushed out of the room. Eloise looked at Harry significantly, but he was frozen and so she went after his fiancée in his place.

"What's Murphy's Law?" Asked Ron as he looked around in confusion.

"Everything that can go wrong will go wrong," Harry heard himself say, his voice flat.

Ron expression took on one of amusement until he noticed the devastation Harry was feeling and was apparently unable to hide. "Mate, I'm sure she didn't mean it like that," he consoled.

"How did she mean it then?" Harry challenged in return.

Ron's silence spoke volumes.

"We haven't talked about kids, not really," he said vacantly.

"She wants them, I know she does," Ron tried to reassure him.

He looked at his best mate sharply. "I know she _did_ want them, in theory. But maybe she doesn't want them with _me_." He laughed, bitterly. Of course, just when he thought he was getting everything he'd ever wanted it had blown up in his face again. "She's right, all I seem to do is attract trouble, it probably wouldn't even be safe for me to have children, and you know Hermione, ever sensible," he mocked.

Ron's face clouded over. "Stop it Harry," he snapped. "You said that you loved her and that you wouldn't hurt her. You are not going to assume the worst and get all broody without even giving her a chance to explain."

And, as if summoned, Hermione came running into the room, a large tome in her arms, tears streaming down her face, Eloise following at her heels. "I didn't mean that like it sounded, I swear I didn't!" She met his eyes and he could see the plea in them. She actually threw the book aside and fell onto his lap. He automatically wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.

"We'll see ourselves out!" He heard Eloise call, and he just waved a hand in the general direction of her voice before pulling a sobbing Hermione closer to him.

As the sound of their footsteps receded Hermione began to rearrange herself until she was straddling his lap. She pressed her forehead to his. "Hi," she whispered.

Harry chuckled, just having her back in his arms was like the strongest pepper-up potion in the world. "Hi," he murmured in return, "we always seem to end up in this position."

She pulled herself against him from shoulder to hip. "I like this position, you're so close like this." She rocked her hips demonstratively.

He hissed. "Don't distract me witch, you know we have to talk about this."

She nodded, "do you want me to move?"

"Well," he said, grasping her hips, "let's not go _crazy_."

She giggled but did pull back slightly and began to toy with the collar of his shirt. "I'm a selfish witch, Harry."

He huffed out a breath. "That's pretty much the last adjective I'd use to describe you, actually."

"But in this, I am. I've known you half my life, but I've only really had you for a week, and I just want some time for just the two of us before we add to our family."

"But you do want children?" He clarified, and had to consciously remind himself not to grip her too hard. "You're not...concerned with the idea of having them with me?"

She frowned. "Not at all, I think you'll be an excellent father." She took a deep breath and leaned in to leave a few sweet kisses on his lips. "I'm so sorry that you thought that, please forgive me, I promise I'll work on tempering my responses to surprising news. I obviously should have stayed here and talked to you instead of running for our library. It's a very old reflex, but that doesn't make it okay."

That explanation softened his heart, after all, that reflex had saved his life many times. "Talking would be prefered, next time." He had to look away from her face before he dared ask his question. "It's just what you said, about everything around me going wrong. Do you worry about that, now that our relationship has changed?"

She gasped. "That was very badly put, my love. I only meant that… things just seem to happen to you that nobody could possibly expect, but I don't hold it against you and...I really am sorry Harry," she tapped his chin. "Would you look at me please?"

He turned his face back to her, unable to deny her.

"I hope they have your eyes," she said, pulling his glasses off and tenderly caressing his cheeks, she knew that he could still see her clearly from this distance.

The tightness in his chest loosened further and he reached up to tug on her curls. "I hope they have your hair."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Don't wish that on them." Then she looked at him very seriously but continued to caress his face, raking her nails through his beard, and he leaned into her hands, so relieved and grateful for her. "I'll never leave you," she swore, "it's time you started believing that. I may say stupid things, but I'll always be right here."

"The same goes for me, except I'm _definitely_ going to say stupid things," he said ruefully. "And Hermione," he grasped her wrists and looked up at her, "thank you."

"Don't ever say that again," she ordered sternly, "there's nothing I need thanking for."

He considered arguing but then he saw the determined look in her eyes and knew there would be no point; this was the witch who had discovered a basilisk that in a thousand years the best minds in their society had failed to find; who had helped him set up an illegal militia inside of their school; and who had then single-handedly hidden them from an army of Death Eaters for months. Her determination was not something to be ignored or scoffed at.

She nodded towards the book. "Do you mind if we check? I'll be distracted until I know for sure, and I can't cast it on myself."

"Sure, but isn't it a little early? It's only been a week."

"You're thinking like a muggle," she smiled gently at him, "we can tell a lot sooner with magic."

He nodded, thinking that made sense, and then allowed her to talk him through casting the spell. She sat back on his thighs while he did the pregnancy detection charm. After only a few seconds the light above her womb shown yellow, indicating a negative result. She let out a sob and he looked at her in alarm.

"What's wrong, I thought that's what you wanted?"

"It was!" She cried, "but after all of that I'm still kind of disappointed!"

He could only stare at her for a moment before he took her back into his arms, laughing. "Oh sweetheart, you are most definitely going to be the death of me."

 **Author's Note: So happy y'all are enjoying this, my first Harmony. Thanks new and returning readers alike! There's just an epilogue to follow, I think. Also, there's a Pinterest board for this story if you want to check it out!**

 **Thanks to the fabulous Weestarmeggie for beta reading this monster chapter, and for listening to me going on about Harry for WEEKS! And, as always, thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Epilogue

Hermione lay in her hospital bed, tucked against her husband, head on his chest. She'd just given birth hours before and was properly exhausted, but she was too elated, and mostly too relieved to sleep. Harry seemed to feel the same way and he was just laying there, Hermione curled under one arm, his newborn son nestled into the crook of the other, when all of a sudden the baby let out a cry and Hermione jumped.

"Careful sweetheart," Harry murmured, "I know you must be sore."

"I'm fine. Does he need anything, do you think he's hungry?" She asked anxiously.

"He's fine, he's still asleep. And you've been carrying him for nine months, let me take over for a little while, you just relax."

"Eight months," she corrected ruefully.

"Either way, he's here and he's healthy. You did brilliantly, stop beating yourself up. Now, do you have any thoughts about names?"

It was a blatant attempt to distract her, but she allowed it. Their other two children had been named months before they arrived. But, given her complicated pregnancy, it had felt like tempting fate to come up with a name this time around, and the nameplate on his cot that simply said "Baby Boy Potter," bothered her.

"I like Oliver," she provided quietly.

He pulled back so that he could fully see her face. "Really? I've never heard you say that before."

"Well," she shrugged, it's not a traditional Potter family name so I didn't see any point in suggesting it before."

"Hermione, we didn't have to use a traditional name," he said cautiously.

It had led to one of the biggest fights they'd ever had when he'd wanted to name their first child after his mother, and she'd responded that she didn't think that was fair to their daughter. Lily Potter's memory cast a large shadow, too much pressure to put on a little girl. He had taken that as a slight against his mother and had ranted and raved, wouldn't listen to her explanation, and then proceeded to sleep in a guest bedroom for the next three days. Hermione, hormonal and at the end of her rope, had done something she'd promised herself she'd never do: put their best friend in the middle. She showed up on Ron's doorstep in the middle of the night and promptly fell into his arms, sobbing, the moment he opened the door.

She'd explained what had happened and then he'd gone to speak to Harry, leaving her in Eloise's care. He was gone for an entire day and when he returned it was with a sheepish Harry in tow, both of them looking a little worse for wear. She was never able to get either of them to tell her what was said, or what had happened between them, but it had a deep impact on Harry who had literally fallen to her feet begging for forgiveness.

Hermione had clarified that she would love to name their daughter in honor of his mother, she just didn't want to literally name her 'Lily.' They'd compromised with Bryony Elizabeth: Bryony, a flower name as was traditional in Lily's family, and Elizabeth which had been her middle name, as well as the name of Hermione's favorite Grandmother.

So, when they'd gone to name their son, he had been hesitant to suggest that they use a traditional Potter name, considering that their son would be the Potter heir. But she'd loved the idea, and had actually been the one to suggest 'James' as a middle name because it honored both Harry and his father.

"Harry," she said, matching his chiding tone, " _we_ agreed that we would, it's what I wanted too. Besides, I love Philip's name, I'm just telling you why I never added Oliver to the list when we were deciding before."

He nodded and thought that through. "I like it, but since I know you have a reason for everything, may I ask why?"

"Well ' _Oliver Twist_ ,' was one of my favorite books when I was a little girl."

"That I did know," Harry said with a grin. She owned no fewer than three copies of the book and had already read it with their daughter.

"And I guess I just always thought if I had a boy…" she trailed off, hiding her face in his shoulder.

"Oliver it is, then," he agreed easily.

"Just like that?"

"Why not? We named Bryony in the tradition of my mother's family, Philip in the tradition of my father's. It's time to honor your family with a literary name. Plus you got all shy just now, which means it's important to you."

"That's not exactly a tradition, just something my parents did because Mum loved Shakespeare so much," she answered, still hiding her face.

"Then we're starting a new one, with you and Oliver."

"Are you sure?" She looked up at him hopefully. This was a wish she'd been carrying quietly in her heart since they'd discovered they were having a second son.

"I couldn't think of anything that fits better. The look on your face right now would be enough to convince me if I needed convincing."

She beamed at him and turned back to the baby.

"Welcome to the family Oliver," Hermione cooed. "I can't believe he's here," she murmured, reaching for her son and Harry adjusted the baby so that Hermione could reach him easily. "He's so small," she said, a tremor in her voice, "he's really going to be okay?"

"He's little, but he's perfectly healthy, he was just in a hurry to get here," he reassured her for at least the tenth time since the healer had placed him on her chest- tiny yes, but screaming.

She took a few long breaths through her nose, and then she choked on a sob. "I was so afraid, Harry! I've never been that afraid, not even in the tent!"

Harry took a deep breath and then carefully transferred Oliver into her arms, and at her questioning look he tapped her back, urging her to scoot forward. He swung one leg around her and got her settled in the vee of his legs, wrapping his arms around her so that they were cradling the baby together.

"You're a rockstar sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, "and honestly, I'm in awe of you."

She laughed and sniffled. "I tell you I was terrified, and you tell me I'm a rockstar? Have you been here the past few months or was that somebody else under polyjuice?"

"You'd ferret out anybody trying to impersonate me in less than five minutes. It's kind of scary how well you know me," he snorted. "Anyway, bravery isn't an absence of fear, I think you and I know that better than just about anybody."

She sighed and nodded. "I just felt like the universe was punishing me! About the only thing I really wanted for years was to get pregnant again, and then we were blessed with two in a row, and I couldn't even be grateful for it!" She admitted on a hushed whisper, holding the precious bundle in her arms a little tighter.

He kissed her temple. "You know that's not true, right? You were faced with a surprise pregnancy when you had a three month old infant who was only conceived after four years of gut wrenching infertility, as well as a six year old who was still very much getting used to having to share her parents. It's understandable that you were upset and afraid- I was and it wasn't my body. You didn't doom yourself to a complicated pregnancy because you weren't overjoyed the moment the detection charm appeared positive."

"It just felt like I must have done something wrong for my body to keep failing me." She shifted uncomfortably- they'd never spoken any of this outloud.

Harry sighed. That had been the most difficult part of their life together; trying to get pregnant again after Bryony, watching his strong, powerful wife feel like a failure. They did thousands of hours of research, tried and exhausted every magical and muggle fertility treatment they could find, but month after month, nothing. It had gotten to be too much, and he had been the one to convince her to stop, that their little family of three was perfect as it was.

And then just four months later, after watching Hermione run for the toilet three mornings in a row, he'd also been the one to convince her to let him check. With shaking hands he'd performed the charm for what felt like the thousandth time, but for only the second time it actually came back with a positive result. And they'd been overjoyed. And as with Bryony it had been an easy pregnancy.

By contrast, this one had been anything but and she'd blamed herself for that from day one. She hadn't said anything, he could just tell. She followed the healers instructions to a tee, but it was just one problem after another, and he had been terrified of what it would do to Hermione when the healer informed them during her sixth month that she'd have to remain in St. Mungo's until the baby was born.

"You did nothing wrong, you've been so strong, I'm amazed. And that's what I'm talking about, you easily could have let this bring you down, withdrawn into yourself, pulled away from me and the kids. I know you've been going stir crazy up here, but you stayed positive even though you were afraid. I should have known you'd rise to the occasion though, after all, you taught me how to do that."

"Taught you what?"

"To never give up, even if things are desperate. Even when you're cold and starving in the woods with no plan and no end in sight." He gave her an extra squeeze and nuzzled her neck.

"Harry," she snorted, "as I recall, I was a wreck then too."

"But you didn't leave me, and you never stopped believing in me," he countered. "I have no doubt in my mind that I'd be dead if it hadn't been for you. I needed your strength, I always have."

"Harry," she gasped.

"Do you know what else you taught me?" He interrupted before she could argue.

"I- no, what?"

"How to love."

"Harry! You always knew how to love, you just didn't really have anybody in your life worth loving before Hogwarts."

"Oh, I could certainly feel love, even though I had almost no experience with it, but you misunderstand me. I don't mean love as an emotion, but as an action. And I don't mean making love either, though you've certainly taught me a lot about that," he nipped at her jawline and she let out a little laugh. "I mean that twelve year old girl who befriended an eleven year old boy and never left his side. Through that first little _adventure_ ," he said sardonically, "with the Philosopher's Stone and everything else at Hogwarts, through the war, and those dark days after when you helped me figure out what normal looked like for me. Being married to me- I know it's not a picnic, it comes with a lot of baggage. And you've given me three children- Merlin witch, I've watched you give birth three times- you are a freaking rockstar and you'll never convince me otherwise."

"It would be impossible for me not to love you Harry," she sighed, "it's just an ultimate truth of my life. I'd say it's nothing spectacular, but I think what we have between us is exactly that. It goes both ways though."

"Everything I've been through was worth it to have this life with you. I love you so much." She craned her neck, clearly asking for a kiss, which he was happy to grant her. "And I've _missed_ you. I think I owe Oliver. Since he was so anxious to get here, now I get you both home so much earlier than I thought I would."

"Home," she sighed and sunk further into his embrace. "Merlin, I can't wait to get home." She looked up over her shoulder at him and reached up to caress his cheeks. "You haven't been sleeping." She accused.

He turned his face to kiss her palm. "Funny thing that, you see, my wife's been in the hospital and I'm not used to sleeping alone." He winced. "And while we're on that subject, I have a confession."

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I may have been allowing Bryony to crawl into bed with me far more often than you would approve of."

"Oh, Harry," she smirked at him, "she's seven and I'm her mum, do you really think she hasn't been confessing everything that's been going on to me?'

"That was supposed to be our secret!" He objected, looking truly affronted- eyes wide, mouth open, like the little boy she'd first met.

She laughed, heart swelling with love for him, but then grew serious. "She wanted me to know that she was doing her best to take care of you. She knew you were lonely and didn't want me to worry."

Harry's eyes softened. "Just like her mum. You know," he said after a moment's contemplation, "our kids are pretty perfect."

"I'll remind you of that when this one is waking us up every two hours."

"Still," he shrugged, "we're good at this baby making thing, maybe we should look into going professional," he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Oh no!" She exclaimed on a laugh, "this factory is closed!" She gestured generally to her abdomen. "I will be going back on the potion and there will be no more forgetting the charm. We're already outnumbered as it is!"

"Alright, alright," he chuckled,

"Harry?" She asked after a few minutes of peaceful silence where they just enjoyed being back in each other's arms again.

"Hmmmm?"

"You do know that if you'd let Philip sleep in our bed that discussion would have gone very differently, right?"

"Oh, no way, that kid kicks!"

At that moment Ron's Jack Russell patronus came trotting into the room to let them know that he was downstairs with their other two children and was bringing them up.

"Hi boy!" Hermione greeted the glowing animal cheerfully after he delivered his message.

She held out her hand for him, and he immediately came over to her, sniffed at her hand, gave her an affectionate doggy smile, and disappeared.

"You know," Harry growled in faux irritation, "a lesser wizard would be threatened by how much you love that patronus."

"I can't help it, he's so cute," she shrugged.

"Cute," he growled, "Prongs is noble, majestic even."

"Yes, yes," she patted his face condescendingly, "no need to be threatened."

Just a few minutes later Ron's quiet voice sounded from outside. "Knock knock," accompanied by an even quieter tapping on the door. As a father of two himself, Ron was well acquainted with the rule about waking sleeping babies- which is that you never do it.

"Come in," Harry called.

He opened the door, Philip perched on his hip, Bryony following closely behind him. She peaked out from behind him, looking slightly shy. Ron was beaming at the bundle in Hermione's arms.

"Mama," Philip screeched, trying to throw himself out of Ron's arms in her direction and Hermione's heart melted.

She had been so worried that her hospital stay would damage her bond with him. She'd had six years alone with Bryony and she felt a lot of guilt that she had missed so much of her second child's first year. He hadn't even been allowed to cuddle in bed with her when he came to visit, he was a naturally rowdy child and far too young to understand that he had to be gentle with Mummy, on top of which, visiting hours for children were already so limited anyway.

It was Ron who had confided in her that Harry had placed pictures of her all over the house so that Philip saw her everywhere he looked, and that he constantly chatted to the baby about her. As a result 'mama' had actually been his first word, though she unfortunately hadn't been around to hear it.

She immediately passed Oliver to Harry and crawled from between his legs to the end of the bed.

"Careful," said Harry.

"I've done much more strenuous things today," she answered with a roll of her eyes as she dangled her legs over the side of the mattress and prepared to stand up.

"I know, that's what I'm concerned about," he answered wryly.

She intended to just ignore his concerns but then rethought. Given that the only physical activity she'd been allowed to do for weeks was shuffle to the bathroom and back a few times a day, it might be foolish to trust her legs while holding 20 pounds of squirming infant, so she just reached out for him instead. Ron didn't hesitate to approach the bed and hand him over, and she took him into her arms for the first time in longer than she cared to consider, holding him against her chest and covering his face and dark head with kisses. She'd missed him tremendously.

"You can move around now," Bryony observed with a shy smile, still hovering at her godfather's side, leaning into him slightly.

"I can, still just a little wobbly on my feet. I'll be home soon, probably the day after tomorrow."

She smiled more brightly and then lurched forward, but paused mid-step as if uncertain if she was allowed.

"Come here pretty girl," Hermione held out one arm for her daughter and she rushed to embrace her.

Ron watched them for a moment, a soft smile on his face, then he winked at Hermione and loped up to the head of the bed where Harry was still perched with the baby. "You did good again, Mione," he declared, peering at the newborn. "Your kids always come out with so much hair."

"Why thank you, Ronald," she answered with a chuckle.

"Do we have a name?" He wondered.

She looked at Harry to confirm and he gave her a nod. "Oliver, his name is Oliver, though we haven't talked about a middle name yet." She turned to her daughter, running a hand through her curls. "Maybe you could help with that, Bry?"

She just nodded as Ron let out a barking laugh. "You're seriously going to name your kid after a quidditch player?"

Hermione frowned, considered this, and then groaned. "I most certainly was not thinking about Oliver Wood when we decided!"

"Well I approve, but for the record, if he turns into a big burly Keeper, you were warned in advance!" Ron teased.

"If our preemie turns out to be a big burly Keeper, I'll just be grateful," she answered quietly, hugging her other two children a little closer.

Ron's expression melted in understanding. "He'll grow up big and strong nonetheless," he asserted, cupping the baby's head. "I'll get out of your hair, I'll be back in a couple of hours to pick these two up," he looked between her and Harry questioningly, turning his statement into a question.

"That sounds good, when you come back you can hold Oliver, but Petal should go first," Harry answered with a smile for his daughter.

"Of course she should." Ron came back to the three huddled at the foot of the bed and pressed a kiss to Hermione's temple. "Seriously, you did good. I'll be back to formally meet my godson later."

"Bold assumption, Ronald."

He scoffed. "Like you'd pick anybody else, I am the best godfather in the history of godfathers. Right, Petal?"

"Maybe..." Bryony grinned at him.

"Just like your mother," he tweaked her cheek affectionately and went to the door, turning back before he walked through it, "you should consider 'Ronald,' it's a good strong name." He winked and closed the door behind him.

"Petal, would you like to meet your brother?" Harry asked after Ron disappeared.

"Yes," she said quietly, but she didn't move from where she was leaning against Hermione.

"Come on," Hermione encouraged her to climb onto the bed and settle next to her father, then she put Philip down and planted herself at Harry's other side, managing to snag her elder son before he could lunge at Harry to check out the bundle in his arms, "it's been too long since we had a family cuddle and this'll be our first as a family of five."

Harry started to hand over the baby, but Bryony hesitated. "He's so little," she breathed, "I don't want to hurt him."

"He's smaller than Philip was, but we have confidence in you, love, you remember what to do?"

She took a deep breath and nodded. Holding out her arms, Harry placed the swaddled bundle into them and they both watched in satisfaction at how careful she was, how she was certain to support his head. "I like his name," she observed quietly. "Like ' _Oliver Twist._ '"

"You know me well," Hermione noted with a chuckle, Philip wriggling in her arms, a little manic at the prospect of finally having both of his parents within reach at once.

Hermione tried to hide her tears as she watched her daughter fall in love with her little brother. She'd been theoretically excited about the prospect of another sibling, and Hermione had been thankful for that, had adored listening to her eldest chat to her expanding belly, but that had been nothing compared to watching them really meet.

"You should name him after Uncle Ron," Bryony said after a few minutes, brushing her middle and index fingers gently across the baby's cheek.

Hermione looked at her husband who just shrugged as he caught Philip's little fist before he accidentally punched him in the nose.

"You think?" She asked.

"Well he's your best friend," Bryony shrugged, "and he's our godfather. Me and Philip are both named after important people, why not? I mean, he should be named after somebody important too, right?"

"Brightest witch of her age," she heard Harry murmur.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Is that agreement?"

He shrugged. "I think it's a nice gesture...and I can't think of anybody more worthy."

"I agree," she said quietly.

"Okay then, Oliver Ronald. Though, he's going to be insufferable."

"What's 'insufferable?'" Bryony wondered.

"It means that we'll hardly be able to listen to Uncle Ron brag about how we named your brother after him because he will be so smug, or full of himself," Hermione explained.

"Oh, yeah he will," she agreed as she petted her newborn brother's head. "But he's always so full of himself."

She didn't even seem to notice the way that observation completely cracked her parents up. Their daughter wouldn't recognize the insecure young boy her godfather had once been.

"Was I this cute?" Bryony continued, oblivious.

"Yes," they both answered automatically.

"And he's so little because he came early?"

"That's right," Harry said gently, "but he's just fine. He just couldn't wait to meet you, that goes for both of your brothers, actually."

"Excuse me," Hermione interrupted, incredulous, "maybe you've been able to forget, but I certainly haven't, that this kid," she pointed to Philip, "was two miserable weeks _late_."

"Yeah," Harry grinned, "but when he decided it was time, he made it quick."

"If you weren't Harry Potter, I'm pretty sure I would have ended up delivering him in the waiting room," Hermione answered wryly.

"Why does it matter that he's Harry Potter?" Asked Bryony, still not taking her eyes off of Oliver.

"Remember what we told you about the war and how everybody knows Daddy, and it means that he sometimes gets special treatment?"

"Oh. _That._ " She answered flatly.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused glance. If anybody hated his fame more than Harry, it was their daughter. They tried to keep their children out of the limelight, but they couldn't completely hide them from the wizarding world and it's scrutiny of their family. And when they went to Diagon Alley or to visit Hermione at work, Bryony noticed that they drew the attention of a lot of people. So, about a year before, they'd sat her down and explained the basics of the war and Harry's past. And she had been distinctly unimpressed- not that her father was considered to be a hero, that had already been an accepted fact in her mind, but that these strangers thought that they had some kind of claim on him.

"What about me?" She asked.

"You were right on time, practically perfect in every way." He gave her a smacking kiss on the top of her head, and she finally looked up to grin at him- her green eyes wide and delighted. "Have I ever told you about the day you were born?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Bryony answered, sounding decidedly uninterested. It wasn't a particularly interesting story- typical labor and delivery, meaningless to a seven year old- nor was she a particularly self-involved child, she preferred the stories of her parents (heavily edited) adventures at Hogwarts.

"Did I ever tell you that it was the best day of my life?"

"What? I thought the day you married Mum was the best day of your life?"

Molly Weasley had saved copies of all of the extensive press coverage (despite only one reporter and one photographer having been invited) of their wedding and Bryony loved to look through the various magazines and newspapers and then ask all about it. Hermione couldn't even blame her daughter for thinking that they looked like a prince and princess at a ball straight out of a Disney movie, and believing that no day could possibly beat that.

"That was an excellent day. A beautiful, wonderful day," Harry glanced at his wife and Hermione could feel the emotions radiating off of him. "But it wasn't the best day."

"But why?"

"Because Petal, do you remember the stories of my mum and dad, how I never really had a family and how that's all I ever really wanted?"

She just nodded.

"Well, when you joined us, it was all my dreams come true. We hoped to give you siblings, and I don't love your brothers any less than I love you, but the day you were born, I had a family, and my life was complete."

"Oh," she said quietly.

Hermione looked up at Harry, tears clouding her eyes. 'I love you,' she mouthed.

Harry lifted his arms putting one around each of his girls and they enjoyed their time as a newly expanded, but not better, family.

That evening, when their two eldest had left, Hermione was once again laying, cradled between Harry's thighs, her back to his chest. The baby had been sent to the nursery, Harry having convinced her that she should rest while she could.

"So what did you do?" She wondered

"Do?" He asked, all innocence.

"To make sure you're allowed in here at all hours and nobody even blinks an eye when you're in bed with me?"

"Well, I am Harry Potter."

She laughed. "Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"I know how you hate to play that card."

"Fucking hell woman, how long do we have to be married for you to realize that I would do anything for you, and it's not a _sacrifice._ "

She faltered, he'd said it jokingly, but it was nothing but the truth. "You're right."

"You're right," he repeated more loudly, yelling into the ether, "did you hear that universe, she admitted I was right! This will never happen again!"

She giggled and slapped at this hands. "Hush, whatever favors you've called in, I'd rather not bring the medi-witches busting in here to check on us."

He arranged them more comfortably on the bed when she yawned. "Rest sweetheart."

She turned her head on his chest so that she could look at him, not yet quite ready for sleep. "I love you so much, have I ever told you how grateful I am for that week in Switzerland?"

He laughed, "yes, multiple times during the week in question, and then again when I bought you the chalet for our fifth anniversary, and many other random times, usually when you're telling me how amazing I am in the throes of passion."

"Prat," she murmured.

"Your prat," he corrected, "and gladly so."

"But I'm serious, if we hadn't gone on that holiday, if you hadn't gotten drunk that night… Do you remember what you said?"

"I'm never going to live that down," he groaned, "I try not to think about it, I know it wasn't particularly eloquent or romantic."

"I thought it was pretty romantic," she shrugged, "it was also very possessive- that was a new side of you. Still, that was the moment for me. It was wonderful to hear you say that you loved me, but when you said you wanted children with me, I knew that I felt the same way. You told me that there was a moment you found me in Potter House, having made myself completely at home, and you knew only I could be Lady Potter? Well that was when I knew that only you could be the father of my children." She reached up to cup his face. "Thank you for our family Harry."

 **Author's note: This story is complete. However, when I was deciding how I wanted it to end I wrote an entirely different chapter first that just didn't end up fitting. That means that I have something like 5k words just sitting in my drive about Bryony's first day with her father as her DADA professor. Would y'all like to see that, or should I let this be the way it is? Let me know, majority rules, haha!**

 **Thank you to Weestarmeggie for reading all the versions of this chapter, talking me down, beta reading this, she's amazing. Thank you all for your support with this, my first story in this ship. FYI, I already have another one in the works so watch this space if you're interested. Happy holidays!**


	4. Futuretake

Futuretake- September 4, 2017

Newly minted Slytherin, Bryony Potter, braced herself as she walked to the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of her Hogwarts career feeling a combination of excitement and dread. On the one hand, she loved her father and she was very proud of him. In the few days she'd been at school she'd already heard quite a bit of talk confirming her suspicions about how well-liked and respected Professor Potter was.

She was also secretly relieved that- despite being at boarding school- she wouldn't be completely cut-off from her family. Not only would her father be in the castle during the day, her mother and siblings were sure to visit as well (she'd been to Hogwarts many times as a child).

But on the other hand, he was her father. And when her much anticipated Hogwarts letter had arrived last fall it had finally truly sunk in that he would soon also be her professor. As much as she adored him, she didn't particularly relish facing that reality.

She was so preoccupied trying to settle her nerves that she barely even noticed the whispers of: "Oh Merlin, it's actually Harry Potter!" From the two girls walking in front of her as she approached the classroom, because she was used to it. But when they were followed by, "that's Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley too!" She stopped in her tracks.

"It's Potter, Pricilla," the other girl hissed, "she's the Lady Potter now."

"She answers to both, actually," Bryony found herself automatically interrupting the Ravenclaw duo.

They looked back, realized who she was, and blanched.

"Legally she's a Potter, and proud of it. But she kept her maiden name for professional purposes, to stay in touch with her roots," Bryony explained, as patiently as she could muster.

The girls looked at her like she'd just announced that she was from Mars, and Bryony fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was aware that her mother had done several interviews over the years attempting to explain her reasons for continuing to use her maiden name- with the full support of her father, who she knew actually found the whole thing vastly amusing. But even after more than fifteen years of marriage, nobody in the wizarding world seem to understand. Bryony didn't understand what was so confusing about it.

She huffed and when they continued to just stare at her, she pushed past them into the Defense classroom. And, sure enough, there they were. Her father was seated on the desk at the front of the room, her mother stood in front of him, between his legs with his arms around her waist and she was having what appeared to be a heated discussion with her Uncle Ron. Which was completely normal.

She carefully selected a seat; not too close to the front but not all the way in the back either. The adults didn't seem to notice her- or any of the other students, for that matter- which was just fine with her. Conversation continued to buzz around her but Bryony noticed that it was considerably more subdued than that preceding the other classes she'd attended in the past couple of days, and even a cursory look around told her that the students were unusually focused on the people at the front of the room.

She sighed and part of her wanted to march up there and demand to know what was going on, but she didn't want to call that kind of attention to herself. So she set herself to the task of arranging her things for class when, out of the corner of her eye she saw somebody seat themselves next to her. She looked up and met the grey eyes of Scorpius Malfoy.

"Where were you?" She hissed. "I didn't see you at breakfast."

His cheeks went slightly pink and he ducked his head. "I overslept. I'm not used to getting myself out of bed."

Bryony kept her expression carefully neutral. She didn't know Scorpius well, but she knew enough to know that he was spoiled. But she didn't want to make him uncomfortable because he was actually really nice, if quiet. Their mothers had struck up something of an odd friendship and so she had been around him enough over the years to know that he was enjoyable company, and he was kind and patient with her little brothers, which was the key to endearing oneself to her. Phillip and Oliver might have been mischievous little pests, but they were _hers_ to protect.

She didn't have a lot of friends in the magical world, her parents had kept her rather sheltered due to their fame, and the Weasley cousins she usually spent time with were all either older or younger than her. Scorpius' familiar face on the Hogwarts Express had been very welcome. And then he'd just seemed so _relieved_ when she asked to sit with him- but she'd quickly taken notice of the whispers about him which had infuriated her- and had understood why. So, especially once they were both sorted into Slytherin, she'd vowed to stick close to him. But she hadn't been prepared to go storming into the boys' dorms on her third day at Hogwarts to find him, so she'd done the next best thing.

"Here," she said pulling the bacon sandwiches and an apple she'd squirreled away out of her bag and placing them on the desk in front of him.

"Oh I couldn't," he protested, but she'd seen his eyes light up at the sight of the food.

"Relax, I _had_ breakfast, Mum just told me I should always be sure to have some snacks on hand. You're welcome to it." She smiled at him encouragingly.

In fact, her mother had been very specific about the need to keep some fuel on her person at all times; her father had also been very specific when he clarified that didn't mean she should skip meals to go to the library.

"Thanks," he murmured. She just shrugged and returned to the task of arranging her things so that he didn't feel scrutinized.

"Hey Petal!" Her head shot up at the sound of her childhood nickname to see her Uncle Ron studying her. "I have to say, I thought the Sorting Hat had lost the plot when I heard it put you in Slytherin. I mean imagine, a Potter in Slytherin! But green suits you."

Bryony felt herself turning bright red.

"She's clever, cunning, and ambitious. There's nothing surprising about it. And if you recall the hat strongly considered Slytherin for Harry as well," her mother sniffed. "Now be quiet, we're not here to embarrass her."

The room had gone deathly silent at this news about her father and Bryony was sure that would be all over the school by lunch, but the adults didn't seem to notice.

"I don't know why you're here but I'm definitely here to embarrass her. It's my duty as her godfather," Uncle Ron retorted puffing out his chest.

"I think it's usually considered the parents duty to embarrass their children. Godparents are meant to be the cool ones," her father interjected.

"Yes, it was _very_ cool when you gave Ryan that drum set for his last birthday," he grumbled and her father snickered- she knew for a fact that had been a retaliatory gift for all the WWW products Uncle Ron had slipped to her brothers over the years. "And anyway, you're Bry's professor so you can't do it, and 'Mione's obviously not going to," he gestured to the way her mother was glaring at him. "I've got to pick up the slack. After all, kids these days have it so easy. I bet there's not even one deadly trap in this school that they're gonna expect Petal to get past before the end of the year."

"Ronald!"

He held up his hands in surrender. "I know, I know, you're more worried about her getting expelled than killed, but I for one am happy to know they've upped the safety standards in this place. Really Hermione, you need to work out your priorities."

Bryony buried her face in her hands. This conversation had officially gone over her head, but she really didn't care what they were talking about, she just wished they'd shut up. And then her mother reached over and viciously pinched her Uncle Ron's side. He yelped and jumped about three feet in the air.

"And there you have it class, a sterling example of the kind of behavior I will not tolerate in this room," her father interrupted but he looked more amused than anything else. "Unless, of course, you happen to be married to me, because my wife always knows best." He grinned at her mother and kissed her cheek even though she looked like she was considering retaliating against him as well. But then something seemed to draw his attention away from her. "Headmistress, is there a problem?"

Bryony lifted her head and turned around to see Professor McGonagall standing at the back of the room.

The woman smirked and settled herself into a corner desk. "Not at all Professor Potter, I'm just here to observe. I learned far too much during your youth to even consider allowing the three of you to remain unsupervised in my school. And I believe Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley have just made my point, behave yourselves in front of my students, young lady, young man."

"Of course Headmistress," her mother said quietly, and Bryony was sure their cheeks were now matching shades of red.

Uncle Ron just grinned playfully. "Understood Headmistress. I'll not be causing any trouble," he declared, the picture of innocence.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you Mr. Weasley, do you have any idea how much trouble your products have caused me over the years? I ought to give you detention until you're my age."

Uncle Ron just smirked.

"Alright then, back to the subject at hand," her father suddenly said loudly, shifting her mother so that she was standing beside him and then slipping off the desk. Bryony could tell that he'd slipped into his serious teaching mode. "As the Headmistress has just said, I'm Professor Potter. Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I expect you to take this class seriously, not only because it is mandatory through your O.W.L.s and I expect you to perform well, but because there will be dangerous spells used in this classroom. I fully intend to prepare you to defend yourself against somebody who means you harm. This is not a playground, there will be no foolish, thoughtless wand waving happening in this room. Everything you do, you will do with consideration."

He paused and looked around purposefully, when he caught her eye she gave him a slight smile and a nod. She'd heard this lecture before. Magic was not a toy.

"That said, we are not going to properly begin our lessons today. As you can see, we have some guests. This is Hermione Granger, who also happens to be my wife and this is Ron Weasley. I'm assuming that most of you are aware that I'm somewhat famous," Bryony almost snorted out loud at that ridiculous understatement, "and while I consider being a Hogwarts Professor as one of the most important things I'll ever do, it is not the reason for that fame. I like to use the first class every year to talk to the first years about my past, my experiences during the Second Wizarding War, and allow you to get your questions out of the way. I don't normally include Hermione and Ron in this, but as you probably know my daughter Bryony is in this class and as a courtesy to her I asked that they come so you can ask any questions you have directly to them instead of going to her- though I'm assuming she's not feeling like it's much of a courtesy at the moment."

She raised her eyebrows at him in an expression that she hoped properly conveyed her exasperation, he just laughed and winked at her and then turned very serious and began to speak, beginning his story in October 1981.

Her heart swelled with pride as he spoke- because her parents were so brave and selfless- but mostly because she knew how difficult this was for her father. However, if you didn't know him well you'd never be able to tell. She was five or six the first time her parents sat her down and began to tell her about the war, only in the vaguest terms of course, but they hadn't wanted her to hear it from anybody else. That was the first time she ever saw her father cry.

Today he told her class more than they'd shared with her during that first conversation, but in a much more impersonal way. Still, by the time he finished Bryony had begun to feel downright resentful that he felt like he had to open himself up in this way, that the public believed they had some kind of right to his story. When he asked if anybody had any questions almost every hand in the room shot into the air, herself and Scorpius were notable exceptions.

And that's when she realized that this might be an even more uncomfortable situation for Scorpius than it was for her, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes and, sure enough, he was stiff as a board and held the edge of his desk in a white knuckled grip. While her father had avoided any mention of Scorpius' father by name, or the Malfoy family at all, she worried that it was too much to hope that their classmates would be so discreet.

"You can ask anything you like, but we reserve the right not to answer. However, we won't get angry with you for asking. That said, I will not tolerate rudeness or malicious comments, this is a sensitive subject."

And it turned out, in the face of a man who had just explained to them how he'd defeated the most powerful dark wizard to emerge in a millenium, the students were too intimidated to be anything but polite, if slightly probing.

"I have a question for Bryony," somebody said, Bryony looked around to see that it was one of the Ravenclaws she'd heard talking before class, 'Priscilla,' her friend had called her.

"It's up to Bryony if she wants to answer," responded her father.

"It's fine," she said quietly, she appreciated her parents' efforts to avoid this, but she'd known when she got on the Hogwarts Express that her classmates would have questions for her and that it was only a matter of time before they worked up the courage to ask, and she'd rather that happened while she had backup.

"Is it weird, having them as parents?" The girl asked.

Bryony tried not to let her opinion about the stupidity of that question show on her face, and decided to go for the light answer. "Well, I'd have to say no, since they're the only parents I've ever had and I don't know any different."

Priscilla giggled. "That's true."

"But," Bryony amended, "it's pretty weird to hear people talk about my family like they're their friends, or like when people know my middle name without me telling them because they read it in the paper from when I was born or something." She shrugged.

"That is _so_ weird," she heard Scorpius mutter beside her, she shot him a understanding grin and was pleased to see that he had relaxed.

"Is Mrs. Potter going to run for Minister of Magic?" A boy she couldn't place, other than that he wore Ravenclaw robes called out.

"I haven't decided," her mother laughed, she looked at her father and herself significantly, "it's something I'll have to discuss with my family when the time comes, but truly, I haven't made up my mind."

"Mrs. Potter?" A pretty Indian girl sitting one row in front of Bryony called out as she put her hand up.

"Yes? You're Parvati's daughter, Meera isn't it?" Her mother answered.

"Yes ma'am."

"Meera's mum was one of my roommates at Hogwarts," she explained to the class in general. "How is she?"

"She's good. Actually, she told me that you used to date Viktor Krum, is that true?"

Her uncle Ron let out a barking laugh. "Oh yes she did!"

Her mother visibly rolled her eyes and covered her face with one hand. "Am I never going to live that down?! It's been more than twenty years, it was one dance that we attended together and then we exchanged a few letters, I don't know why people are so caught up on it."

"He still sends her the occasional holiday card," her father said in a loud whisper as Uncle Ron continued to snicker.

"Meera, did your mother happen to mention who took her and your aunt to that same dance?" Her mother said in a saccharine voice.

The girl giggled and nodded.

"I'm guessing from your reaction that she also shared with you what terrible dates these two were," she gestured to the two men at her side as Bryony looked on in astonishment. This wasn't something _her_ parents had shared.

"We were not that bad!" Uncle Ron protested.

"We really were, mate," her father laughed, "we're lucky we ever got another date after that. It's a miracle Hermione consented to be in a relationship with either of us after witnessing it."

"I knew you both had it in you to expand your emotional ranges," she responded, patting his arm condescendingly.

Bryony processed what she was hearing and she didn't like how it was adding up. "Wait a minute," she blurted, "are you saying you used to _date_ Uncle Ron?" Her voice was high and shrill by the end but she barely noticed.

Her parents glanced at each other, and then her mother and Uncle Ron did the same, looking almost guilty and she knew the answer.

"Oh my god! My entire life is a lie!" She crossed her arms in front of her on the desk and buried her face in them, and then thankfully the bell signaling the end of class chimed.

She heard students begin to pack their bags and move out of the classroom but she didn't look up.

"Petal," her father called softly when the classroom was once again quiet. She sat up but refused to look in the direction of his voice, and just began to pack up her own things.

"I need to get to herbology," she said simply.

"Stay here and we can talk about this, I'll write you a note, Neville will understand."

She shook her head, "I don't want people thinking I'm getting special treatment."

"At least come have lunch with us," this time it was her mother who spoke, Bryony couldn't ignore the plea in her voice and looked up to see that her parents were still standing at the front of the room, his arm around her waist, Uncle Ron had moved a few feet away and was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Okay," she nodded, "where?"

"We can have the elves bring us something in my office," her father said.

"I'll see you then," she said feeling like a coward when she ducked her head and scurried out of the room.

She nearly ran headlong into Scorpius who was hovering outside. "Hey," she said, and then smiled when she realized what he was doing, "thank you for waiting on me."

He just shrugged and they began walking towards the Entrance Hall. "Parents have pasts," he offered quietly as they exited the castle- and there was a world of knowledge in that simple statement.

"I know, I'm not even sure why I reacted like that. I was just surprised I guess, I mean Uncle Ron is my godfather, I grew up almost as much in his house as my own, I _call_ him Uncle, for Merlin's sake! It just feels kind of incestuous or something."

He shot her a sidelong glance. "But they're not related, right?"

"No, I mean Mum's a muggleborn, you know that."

"So, not really incest," he pointed out.

"No, you're right," she conceded as they entered the greenhouses.

She was distracted the entire class and she was grateful that Professor Longbottom was a good friend of her parents who'd been teaching her about plants since she was little, so nothing they were working on was new to her, and nobody noticed her preoccupation.

She couldn't explain why this information bothered her so much, because Scorpius was right, there was nothing illicit about it. And it's not as if she believed her parents owed her an explanation for everything in their pasts, so she couldn't even be angry that she hadn't known this before. She ultimately decided that while she'd known, intellectually, that because her parents hadn't become a couple until they were twenty-one, that they'd probably been in relationships with other people. But when it came down to it she couldn't imagine them not being with each other.

When class was over Scorpius escorted her into the castle and then they parted ways and she made her way to her father's rooms- he only occasionally stayed in the castle but he still had a full set of living quarters which adjoined his office and classroom. When she entered she was surprised to find her parents curled up together on the couch, her mother tucked under her father's arm, just speaking quietly to each other. She'd fully expected them to be working.

"Where's Uncle Ron?" She asked, getting their attention.

They looked up and smiled at her, waving her over.

"He thought, perhaps this discussion was best kept between the three of us," her mother explained.

"Plus, he was really looking forward to sitting at the Head Table for lunch, you know how he is," her father added, "I just hope he's not foolish enough to try and pull a prank," he finished under his breath.

Bryony fell into an armchair. "If he tries something, I'm glad I'm not there."

They all laughed.

"Petal," her mother began after a few moments, "first of all, I wanted to say how proud we are of your kindness to Scorpius Malfoy. We saw what you did for him this morning."

"Like mother like daughter," her father added with a fond smile.

Her mother rolled her eyes and her father squeezed her shoulders in response. "What? You did the same for us all the time. And you were picking up strays right from the beginning too."

She snorted. "I don't think Scorpius' parents would appreciate you calling him a stray."

"I didn't mean it like that," he shook his head, "but the kid's going to have a hard time of it." He looked a Bryony knowingly, "I'm sure you've heard the talk and that's why you've been sticking close to him."

Bryony shrugged, uncomfortable with the praise just for being decent. "It's no trouble, I like Scorpius. And it's not fair to blame him for something his dad or grandad did before he was even born. That would be like giving me credit for destroying Voldemort. Anyway, it's nice to have a friend in my year and my House, and he's a good one, I think. He was waiting for me after class, he tried to make me feel better."

"I thought I saw him hovering out there. If he's a good friend stick by him no matter what people say, it'll be worth it, I promise," her mother advised, reaching out to pat her husband's knee.

Bryony felt her eyes go wide at the implication. "Mum! I'm not going to marry Scorpius Malfoy!"

She threw her head back and laughed. "I didn't mean it like that, love. But you know that your father, your uncle Ron, and myself became friends quite early on, and some of what we faced together, that they weren't all good times, but I wouldn't trade either of them for anything. Try to remember that when things get hard."

Bryony looked away and nervously fidgeted with her new claddagh ring, it had an emerald set into the heart and her parents had sent it to her along with a posy of her namesake flower as a congratulatory gift for being sorted into Slytherin.

"And suddenly me saying that makes you uncomfortable." Her mother could read her like a book.

"Can't you see why this might be weird for me?" She asked, wincing at the whining quality she heard in her own voice.

But her mother just looked at her sympathetically. "I can actually. I wanted you to know that we discussed it, and this isn't something any of us have been keeping from you kids intentionally. It's nothing we're ashamed of or were trying to hide, but it was over a long time ago, and it is a bit of an unusual situation, so it hasn't come up. I imagine you have questions?"

She had so many questions. She just wasn't sure she wanted to know the answers. "Was it serious?" She finally managed.

Her mother sat back and appeared to give this some serious thought. It was a comfort that her father didn't appear to be in any way upset by this and just rubbed soothing circles on her mum's upper arm.

"I suppose that depends on how you define 'serious.' We were together almost two years, though I was at Hogwarts for one of them, and there was a time that I thought we'd end up together, as did he. But that was mainly because we thought that it was expected of us, we didn't truly feel that way towards each other. You've seen how we interact, we certainly love each other, but I don't believe we were ever in love with each other."

Bryony felt her chin tremble and the tears she could no longer contain started streaming down her cheeks, and she hated herself for acting like such a little kid.

"But you love Daddy so much, how could you just be with his best friend!" She broke into uncontrollable sobs- she hadn't realized she'd been feeling so offended on her father's behalf- but then she heard movement and she was being lifted into familiar strong arms and settled onto what she knew to be her father's lap. Then her mother's equally familiar- if daintier- arm came around her waist as they enveloped her in one large embrace. When she finally calmed down she opened her eyes to see her mother with her head on her father's shoulder just gazing at her with an understanding smile on her face.

"I hate to tell you this, but things are about to become much more complicated in your life. Being a teenager is so confusing- and I spent my teenage years in the middle of a war. I didn't think that Harry was interested in me like that and so I latched on to the other important boy in my life. I'm not saying Uncle Ron was unworthy of my attentions, but even back then I probably should have realized that we were incompatible."

"You fight all the time," she giggled, even as she was still trying to catch her breath. She'd once witnessed her mother threaten to throw a tea cup at her uncle Ron and he'd invited her to go ahead because she threw like a girl, which meant he was in no danger. Her father had nearly carried her mother out of the room and her Aunt Eloise had hustled Uncle Ron out of their house. It was just the natural order of things. It had made her laugh at the time, but she'd grown up surrounded by couples in healthy relationships, and she couldn't imagine her mother and Uncle Ron being together like that.

"We fight all the time," her mum confirmed with a gentle smile.

"So why did you- what changed?"

"Well, after Harry and Ginny broke up, I think I knew deep down how I felt about him, so I ended things with Ron."

Bryony went rigid. "I'm sorry, did you say _Ginny_?"

Her parents sighed simultaneously.

"Merlin, I've hardly even _thought_ about any of this in years," her father murmured quietly. "Yes," he confirmed, "I was in a relationship with Ginny for approximately as long as Hermione was with Ron, and also briefly during Sixth Year."

She tried to digest this information. She knew Ginny well enough, not as well as George or Bill, but better than Charlie or even Percy. She liked to talk quidditch with her, but just didn't see her nearly as often as she did many of the Weasleys because she lived in Ireland with her husband and two children and traveled often for her job as a reporter.

"This is so weird," she bemoaned.

"Love, did you really think that neither of us had ever had another romantic interest in our lives?" He asked.

"I never really thought about it, you two are just like," she hesitated, suddenly feeling shy, "a unit. 'Harry and Hermione,' people say your names like they're practically one word. You're like ridiculously in love, it's kind of gross."

"Don't put us on too much of a pedestal," her mother cautioned gently.

"I just thought you were a sure thing… but what if you'd missed it? I wouldn't be here, me and Phillip and Oliver."

"I honestly can't imagine that we wouldn't have found each other eventually," she smiled up at her husband. "You were always going to be my best friend, and I loved you too much not to figure it out eventually."

Her father smiled in return and tilted his head to give her a soft kiss; and even though they were extremely close to her, and she normally would have been disgusted, this was the first time in a long time that Bryony didn't roll her eyes at her parents' display of affection.

"You know the story of how your father and I got together."

"Yes, yes," she sighed, "Daddy was in love with you and he had too much to drink on his birthday and confessed it all."

Her father described it as a whirlwind romance, her mother as an inevitability. Her father shot her a warning glance at her attitude and she immediately gave him an apologetic smile.

"Did you know that your room at home used to belong to your mother?"

Bryony just blinked at him. "So, you were what, roommates?"

"No, not exactly," he laughed, "but from the moment I moved in I wanted to make sure she always felt welcome- this was years before we got together, Petal. And that slowly morphed into a feeling of wanting her there all the time. And then one day I just knew that nobody else would ever be mistress of my home."

Well that was nice, wasn't it? But she'd known that, hadn't she? Her father treated her mother like a queen.

Her mother interjected. "That night that he told me he loved me, oh Bry," she sighed and reached up to smooth her hair away from her face. "It's my greatest wish that you get to experience that one day. I had certainly been in denial, but I didn't have to think about it, pretty much as soon as the words left his mouth I just knew that my heart had been right here," she tapped her husband's chest, "for many, many years."

It was only when she felt her father wiping the tears from her face that she even realized she'd been crying again.

"So do you feel better now, are we all okay?"

"Yeah," she squirmed off her father's lap, wedging herself between them and twisted her fingers together nervously. "I just don't like how other people know more about you than I do."

"They might know more random trivia, things they've read, but you really know _us_ love. And that thing about Viktor Krum, let me tell you a secret. Parvati was a nice girl, but there's a reason you've never met her and that I don't really consider her to be a friend even after all those years of living together. She's a big gossip and I bet she thought she was passing something really juicy onto her daughter, but it really was just one dance."

"But, Mum! Viktor Krum! He's so famous!" There was silence as Bryony absorbed the absurdity of she'd just said, given her parents own fame. "That's different, you and Daddy have normal lives and normal jobs, you don't have, like, paparazzi following you around unless you count the weirdos in Diagon Alley who want to take a picture with you."

"Viktor is pretty normal too, it's just the fame that's abnormal." She nudged her playfully, "but if you'd like, i'm pretty sure I could arrange for you to meet him."

"Now you're just bribing me," Bryony huffed.

"Is it working?"

"Yes. But can we leave Philip and Oliver at home, I don't feel like being embarrassed in front of Viktor Krum."

"Alright," she chuckled.

Bryony looked at her father. "And do me a favor, don't ever invite Uncle Ron to class again."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Deal."

 **Author's note: Well there you have it, Bryony was fun to write and I hope you enjoyed this. I posted the first chapter of my new Harmony a few hours ago, it's called "Running and Hiding." I'd love for you to check it out! Thanks for reading and happy new year!**


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